


The Reality of Things

by windsthatwhisper



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Boys In Love, Domestic Fluff, First Meetings, French teacher!Jonny, How Do I Tag, Jonny is not, M/M, Patrick is a hockey player, Secret Relationship, Slight Codependency, Soft Hockey Boys, is that too much to ask, they just want to hold hands alright
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2019-09-19 17:14:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 25,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17005794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/windsthatwhisper/pseuds/windsthatwhisper
Summary: Jonny had Patrick wrapped up against his chest, snug and cozy underneath the blankets.“You should be out with the team,” Jon murmured into Patrick's hair, “You rarely go out anymore.”“I don't want to,” Pat replied, looking up at his boyfriend, “If we can't be out in public, then I'll stay in the shadows with you.”Or, Patrick’s a star hockey player, and Jonny is not. They meet anyway, and from there, it's a spiral of secret relationship woes and midnight movie dates (with an occasional handjob thrown in somewhere).





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not quite sure where I'm going with this, but we'll see. I need the 1988 fluff. So here we go.

Patrick Sharp retired.

It wasn't really a shock. There had been speculations going around, not sure whether he was retiring or becoming a free agent. The locker room, the organization, they knew, though. They all knew.

Jonathan watched the game, saw the final farewell to Sharpy that the fans gave, all the signs, his wave.

He found an article a couple days later, talking about Patrick Kane’s speech, the tears. Jonathan was touched, really.

And a part of him -- he mourned, yearning for what could have been, what he could have had.

There was a shuffle in front of him, and he looked up to see Mallory Atkins standing in front of his desk, looking somewhat nervous.

“Um, _Professeur Toews?_ Could you check over my project? I think they're all right, but- I get some of the words mixed up. I figured I'd ask you.”

He smiled at his student. Mallory was one of the shy ones, something he'd caught onto very quickly since the beginning of the year started, and he was internally pleased that she was gaining enough confidence to ask him questions.

 _“Bien sûr._ Let me see what you have so far.”

He yearned for what could have been, playing hockey. He hears his kids tell him he would have been great. But he supposed that the life he has now is pretty great, too.

It lacked something, though. Jonny wasn't sure what.

▪▪▪

The music was heavy at the club, bass pounding against Patrick’s ears, down to the soles of his shoes and through the floor. They were riding high off their win -- 7-4 against the Blues on the UC ice.

It was refreshing to be able to beat the Blues, laugh and watch as Sharpy tried to shield his family away from the jumbotron that flashed over to him every time the girls did something (mostly purposefully) to embarrass their father.

The guys shoved him along, and an arm swung around his shoulders and yanked him into their chest. “You looked great out there, Peeksy!” Sharpy laughed at him, ruffling his hair because he liked to watch Patrick suffer. “Zoomin’ around the ice like a kid on sugar.”

“I don’t know whether I should be offended or complimented.” Pat said, jerking his head free from Sharpy’s grasp.

Sharpy grinned, because he was a jerk. “Both.”

They shoved one another into a couple booths in the back of the club, hollered at Crow to go get the first round of shots. Sharpy was pressed up against Patrick’s left, squeezed against Brinksy who was smushed against the wall.

It was nice to have Sharpy with them. Patrick missed playing with the newly-retired player, but he enjoyed the nights where they all went out together like old times.

They’d already gotten into a shouting argument about something Duncs did back in Juniors, Seabs yelling that he did (whatever it was) and Duncs screaming that he _did not, Seabrook, shut it!_

Patrick loved his team.

He also loved the sudden image of the sculpted back and back _side_ of the guy Patrick caught sight of leaning up against the bar, waiting for the bartender.

Patrick licked his lips. He needed a good lay tonight. He figured he deserved a piece of _that._

“Damn, Peeks, got your eye on a girl already?” Krugs laughed, making some of the others look up and pause the Duncs-Seabs bickering.

Patrick shrugged, “You know me.” What they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them, or him.

There was a series of whistling, and a hard slap on the back from Sharpy. “Go get ‘em, kid.”

Crow came back to the tables with a tray of shots just as Patrick was sliding out of his seat to make his approach. He grabbed two shots and dunked them back, one at a time, before sauntering over to the guy at the bar.

He slipped right up next to the guy, elbows and forearms pressed against the bar, fists balled together. There was a girl on the other side of him to keep his cover.

The guy next to him stared at the bartender, trying to get his attention. Patrick had been here a million times. He knew-

“Hate to break it to you, bud, but Chase keeps his attention on the pretty girls that come up here. You might be here for a while.”

The guy huffed a bit, “I can see that.”

And then he turned, and _sweet mother of God,_ that was a sharp jaw.

Patrick slapped on a flirtatious smile to recover, and said, “You know, I’m pretty well-known here. I could wave him over for you, if you want.”

The guy squinted at him, as if trying to read his innermost thoughts. He had these dead shark eyes, dark, but Patrick did like seafood and that face was _working_ for him. “I’m feeling nice tonight,” he shrugged nonchalantly, “But- only on one condition.”

The guy squinted harder. “And what would that be?”

“You let me buy your drink.”

“Why would you do that?”

Patrick shook his head fondly. “You don’t go out very often, do you?”

The guy seemed offended for a moment, before he slumped a little. “No, not- not really. My schedule isn’t really set up for partying and drinking and- stuff.”

Patrick raised his eyebrows. _Stuff,_ huh.

He cooed, somewhat mockingly, “You poor thing. Here, let me buy you your first drink.”

“This isn’t my first-”

Patrick whistled, “Hey, Chase! Over here, man!”

Chase turned at the sound of Patrick’s voice, and he smiled. “Kaner, my man. Haven’t seen you here in awhile.”

Patrick shrugged. “The guy’s and I have been expanding our options.” He snorted. “Mind grabbing me and my new friend, here, some drinks?”

“Whatcha need?”

“You, surprise me. _You,”_ he turned to the man, “What would you like?”

The guy looked constipated. “A beer. And I can get it myself.”

“I’m sure you can. But you’re not. Get over it.”

“I-”

Chase slammed a beer in front of the guy with a cheerful, “There you go,” then started mixing things to make Pat’s drink. Patrick slid the money onto the table and shot a sly grin at the guy next to him. He stuck out his hand. “Patrick Kane, at your service.”

The guy frowned at his hand, shook it, slowly, and said, “Jonathan. Jonathan Toews.”

Chase gave Patrick his drink -- something with an orangish tint to it and a little paper umbrella stuck in it -- and went off to slink his way to the girl that just walked up. It left Patrick alone with Jonathan, who seemed a little out of place.

Poor guy.

“So, your schedule’s pretty busy, huh?” Patrick asked him, trying to make some kind of small talk. He needed an opening. This guy was making his gaydar go off. There was definitely _something_ about him.

“Huh? Oh, uh, sort of. It’s pretty much working and sleeping. I'm a high school French teacher.”

“French, huh? I don't know any French, not really. Though, that's extra classes as school, so that's probably why I'm not teaching it.”

It’s a stupid line; it doesn’t even make _sense,_ and Jonathan calls him out on it with a scrunched up face and a constipated look, so he rushed out, “I’m an athlete! I- uh, I play hockey. Professionally.”

This time, Jonathan raised his eyebrows. “Uh, duh?”

Patrick blinked.

Jonathan scoffed. “Wow. I’m surprised you didn’t pick up on the Canadian accent, Mr. Athlete.”

As if it was an automatic response, Pat said, “Our children would not play for Team Canada.”

Jonathan glared. “Well, I don’t want them playing for Team USA.”

It became a staring contest, then, who would shrivel and look away. But then, Jonathan’s lips quirked upwards into a smirk, and Patrick sputtered, and then they were bending over in laughter at how this conversation made _absolutely no sense,_ and neither had taken more than two sips of their drinks yet.

“Okay, let’s just- let’s start over,” Patrick laughed, then held out his hand, “Hi. I’m Patrick Kane, and you have a wonderful face.”

Jonathan snorted, but shook his hand. “Jonathan Toews. You have a nice-” he paused, “-package.”

Patrick’s ego skyrocketed. “Oh yeah? You were looking?”

“You have no room to talk! You were looking at my ass.”

“I was not-”

“Don’t even try to deny it. I saw you looking.” Jon scoffed.

Patrick stuck out his tongue. “But- hey. Now that I think about it, your name does sound kind of familiar.”

Jonathan quirked an eyebrow. “It does?”

“Yeah. How do you spell it?”

“T-O-E-W-S.”

Patrick pondered the name a moment, and then, there it was, right behind his eyes. A Canada jersey on a small boy, way back when, flying around the ice with a constant frown on his face, except for when he scored or won a game, big block letters on the back of the white jersey.

_Toews._

“No way,” Patrick gasped, “I played with you.”

▪▪▪

Jon and Pat were in a booth, far away from the team so he didn’t have to deal with… questions.

“I just- I can’t believe it’s you,” Jonathan breathed, taking another long, hard pull from his beer, “I mean, we weren’t exactly buds back then, but like, we talked. I knew you. I even watch your games, read articles about you. Wow. It's crazy. I never made the connection.”

“I know, right?” Patrick shook his head, taking a sip from his own orange concoction, “So what ever -- this is gross, here, take it -- what ever happened to you? You were so good, man. Why’d you stop?”

Jonathan shrugged, taking the straw and scooping some of the smoothie-like drink onto it to slip it between his lips. He grimaced,  _ ew,  _ and took another sip. “Had to. Messed up my knee real bad. Pretty much career-ending before my career began.”

Patrick exhaled hard. “Sucks.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, hey, you’re a teacher now. That’s gotta be pretty cool. You could be teaching the next superstar, or Albert Einstein, or something. You teach French, you said?”

“Yeah. Grew up speaking both French and English, so languages were always an easy subject for me. I know how hard it can be for those who've never been taught. They get frustrated. But I can’t lie, you know? It’s fun to teach them something knew.”

“Gotta love your job.” Patrick nodded, scooping some of the orange drink into his mouth, said through a mouthful, “Why do we keep eating this?”

“I don’t know.” Jonathan laughed, lips pulling wide in a smile.

Patrick really liked his smile. But there were tired lines under Jonathan’s eyes. Patrick frowned a little. “You look exhausted.”

Jonathan shook his head. “No, I'm alright. Weekends are days to relax, you know? I was grading projects all day yesterday. But on the bright side, we have an optional teacher workday on tomorrow, so I'm staying home.”  

“Lucky bastard.” Patrick cursed at him, “We’ve got a plane to Calgary tomorrow.”

Jonathan stared at him gaping. “Then why are you all here? You need to sleep!”

Patrick waved him off. “Nah, I’ll be alright. I’ll just sleep on the plane.”

“That’s not healthy.”

_ “You’re  _ not healthy.”

“Actually-”

“Nope,” Patrick held his hand up, “No. The one thing I do remember, quite clearly, about you was how bad you are at chirping. We’re not opening that box of bats for a good while.”

Jonathan slumped back in his seat, put-out. 

Patrick laughed at him. There were a few beats of silence, so Patrick took the jump. “We should hang out sometime, now that we know we’re both here. Whenever our schedules line up and you’re not dead on your feet.”

Jonathan rolled his eyes, but smiled nevertheless. “Patrick Kane, are you asking me on a date?”

See, this was a prime example of his bad chirping. 

But, Patrick blushed anyway, color high on the apples of his cheeks. “Wuh- I mean, we don’t know each other very well, it-it’s been a good few years, but-”

“Woah, easy Patrick,” Jonathan sat up and reached out to him, “I was just messing around.” He paused, “Just us hanging out, yeah? Getting reacquainted.”

Patrick nodded slowly. “Okay. So- okay. I can do that.”

Jonathan smiled gently at him. “Cool. Cool. I’ll let you know when I’m free.”

“Ditto.” 

Pause.

“So, number?”

“Nineteen.”

_ “No,  _ Jon. Phone number.” 

“Oh, right, right. I knew that.”

“Sure you did, bud.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pat and Jonny meet up to see a movie. It gives Patrick feelings.

The thing is, there aren’t any out hockey players, which means it’s probably not a good idea for Patrick to become the first. Not yet, at least.

He’s not really sure why he’s so nervous. It’s just hanging out with a guy that he hadn’t seen in years. A really hot, deep-voiced, dork of a guy. Patrick got the living hell chirped out of him that night when he left without someone in tow -- because the whole reason he ended up in this mess was because he tried to get Jonathan to come home with him.

He wondered how much it would take to get Jonathan to agree to get to third base.

Not much, he hoped.

It had been about two weeks since Patrick had reunited with Jonathan. They’d been texting whenever they had free time: before practice, after, Jon’s lunch break, when he was staying at the school until six to finish getting work done.

It seemed like any time Patrick wasn’t playing a game, Jonathan was working, and on Jon’s days off, Patrick had things to do.

But finally, Jonathan texted him Friday night, almost three weeks after they first ran into each other.

 

**Professor Toes**

_Hey, so I’m free this weekend, if you’d like to meet up and do something._

 

Of course, the first thing Patrick thought of, he sent.

 

**Patrick**

_OMG u don't have TAKE HOME WORK???_

 

**Professor Toes**

_Yes_

 

Patrick snorted at the bluntness.

 

**Patrick**

_alright, im down. ive got some stuff 2 do, planes 2 catch, on sunday. you know. the cool stuff._

 

**Professor Toes**

_Hey, I’m cool_

 

**Patrick**

_but saturday works for me. up for a movie?_

 

**Professor Toes**

_Sure_

_We’re not watching Han Solo_

 

**Patrick**

_fuck u star wars is gr8_

_what were u thinking?_

 

**Professor Toes**

_idk_

_Incredibles 2?_

 

**Patrick**

_YES_

 

**Professor Toes**

_*laughing emoji*_

 

**Patrick**

_what_

_u didn’t send the emoji_

_u literally sent the asterisks instead_

_u such a loser_

 

**Professor Toes**

_I’m a hot loser_

Patrick paused. This was totally Jonathan trying to flirt in his lame way of trying to be funny, or seductive, or whatever he was trying (and failing) to do. Patrick was enamoured instantly. Wow.

**Patrick**

_yes. yes u r._

▪▪▪

Patrick pulled into the parking space of the movie theater Saturday, and he immediately spotted Jonathan leaning against the bricks of the building outside. He was staring down at his phone, looking at something. He was dressed in blue jeans and a loose black v-neck.

Patrick shuddered from his spot in his car. Jonathan’s biceps looked _great_ in that shirt.

He hurried out of the car, shoving his wallet and phone into his back pocket and his keys in his front. He approached, and Jonathan looked up at the sound of footsteps. He smiled, timid and happy, and pocketed his phone.

“Hey,” he greeted, gaze flickering down Pat’s body, before locking on his eyes like the polite Canadian boy he is, “Did you eat yet?”

Patrick shook his head. “No, I figured I’d feast on popcorn and cookie dough bites.”

“That’s unhealthy.” Jon huffed, but his wobbling smile gave him away, “I’m no better. I’m a sucker for chocolate.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Patrick winked, “Now I know what to bring you on our first date.”

He walked off towards the ticket venders, heard Jonathan sputter, “D-Date? Wait-” and promptly stumble on his feet.

 _Ha,_ Patrick thought, _I can be flirty too._

They each bought their own tickets, but Jonathan insisted on buying all of the food: the large-sized bowl of popcorn, two medium slushies, a box of cookie dough bites, and a box of Hershey’s Kisses.

“Honestly, I could have paid for my stuff,” Patrick told him as they carried their hoard down the hall, “Movie theater food is like, a million dollars.”

“I know,” Jon shrugged, resituating the bowl of popcorn in his arms, “but it made me feel good.”

Patrick raised an eyebrow and followed wordlessly into the theater room.

They pretty much ate three-fourths of the bowl of popcorn and all of Jon’s chocolate during the trailers, but it was okay, because they both got so deep into the movie that they forgot to keep eating about halfway through.

The moments they did remember, Patrick decided that, since they’d both eaten Jonny’s chocolate, Pat could share some of his cookie dough bites. He fished one of them from the box and tapped Jon’s cheek. When he looked over, Patrick brought the bite up to Jon’s mouth.

Jonathan smiled something soft and opened his mouth, letting Patrick pop the bite onto his tongue.

Eventually, they both got used to it, and any time Patrick would tap his arm, Jon’s mouth would open automatically.

Patrick wondered if Jonathan would do that in bed.

Shaking away the thought  -- because that’s _not_ what’s happening here, Patrick -- he focused on feeding Jon cookie dough bites and popcorn until the end of the movie.

They stayed a little while after the movie was over, watched the credits roll and listened to the songs, dancing around in their chairs like the dorks they were.

“Pixar is a miracle to humanity.” Patrick nodded in confirmation as they walked out of the theater and tossed their trash.

“I dunno,” Jon remarked, “Disney’s pretty incredible.”

Then, he smirked, and snickered at his own terrible pun.

Patrick rolled his eyes, a fond feeling settling in his chest. Jonathan held the door for him, and they pushed through into the cool autumn air outside. It was dark now, and when Patrick checked his phone, the time read seven-sixteen.

“Tonight was really fun,” Jonathan told him as they walked into the parking lot, “We should do it again sometime- or you know, something, again. Just hang out, or go do something. You know what I mean.”

Patrick chuckled, and he nodded up at the taller man, “Yeah yeah. Totally. Maybe we can hang out during your lunch break one day? Give you something to look forward to.”

Jonathan snorted. “Oh, it will, will it?

“Um, of course it will! I’m a catch.”

“Yeah, a Catch 22.”

Patrick gaped at him. “Oh, you little shit! I see how it is.”

Jonathan grinned at him, innocent and mischievous. Patrick tutted. “Okay, Mr. Wise-Guy. You’re in for it.”

Patrick stopped them at his car. Jon turned to him, soft. “I’m serious. I really did have a good time.”

Patrick smiled at him kindly, heart fluttering a little bit behind his ribcage. “Yeah, me too. Text me- or call me, or something. Totally. I’m flying out tomorrow, but-”

“Soon.” Jon nodded. “Definitely.”

“Cool.”

“Cool.”

They stared at each other a bit longer, before Jonathan said, “I know this wasn’t a date, but…” He took a sharp breath, closed his eyes, and kissed Patrick’s cheek.

Patrick’s face heated up immediately. God, he felt like a high schooler, getting all flustered and romance-y again. He was almost _thirty,_ geez.

Still, though, it was nice to see that Jon was also blushing as he pulled away. Patrick smiled at him shyly, a silent assurance that the action was okay.

Jonathan nodded again, almost like he was reassuring himself. “I’ll see you later.”

They parted, and Patrick was sad, but then he remembered that he could call Jonathan as soon as he got home, sleep be damned.

That high schooler feeling came back again when they talked for hours later that night, way past Patrick’s reminder to sleep before the plane ride. Oh well, he could always sleep on the plane.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patrick realized he doesn't like not talking to Jonny. That includes when he's overly exhausted, on a plane, in front of the team. But it's okay.

Patrick’s on a moving plane at four thirty in the morning the next day and he wants to throttle everyone who keeps disrupting his nap.

“Rough night last night, Peeksy?” Krugs teased.

Patrick only sort-of regretted not going to bed early, but he got to talk to Jonny, so it was worth it. But, Pat was exhausted, already half asleep and stumbling into things when he’d entered the plane.

He knew what the guys were thinking, knew that they had no idea what really happened. But he let them have it. After all, if they thought he’d gotten it on with a girl, it would cover up the fact that he’s  _ totally super gay. _

It’s a win-win. Sort of.

“Sure did, boys.” Patrick grinned lazily, head lolling back against the seats.

A couple of the young guys hollered, and Patrick slid in his earbuds and fell asleep.

They lose against Calgary, and it sucks, especially because they were on a plane to Dallas the next morning. 

Patrick felt dead to the world, a full body exhaustion washing over him. 

His phone buzzed in his pocket while the guys filled into the seats. He fished it from its confines to check the caller ID. 

Jonny.

_ “Hey,”  _ his monotone voice said through the phone,  _ “I just saw the final score.” _

“Didn't stay up to watch?” Pat joked, half asleep, but coming back to reality to keep the conversation.

_ “It was a Sunday night, Patrick. I had work the next morning.” _

Patrick hummed.

_ “You sound exhausted.” _

“Am,” he responded, transferring his phone to his left ear and ducking his head when Duncs came to sit next to him, “Had to wake up at five to get on a plane to Dallas.”

_ “Shit, I'm surprised your functioning.” _

“I'm not,” he laughed, “That's the problem.”

Jonny chuckle over the other line. They went silent, and as much as he wanted to sleep, Patrick really didn't want them to stop talking. 

“You at the school yet?” He asked, quiet, almost a mumble. 

_ “Not yet. I'm about to leave my house. I've only had three cups of coffee.” _

Pat snorted. “Only?”

He heard Jonny hum an agreement.  _ “Yeah, only. Swear, on some days I need scotch in it. High schoolers, you'd think they'd be at least somewhat mature.” _

Patrick laughed, waving off Duncs's curious look. “Man, I remember being in high school. Hated it. I wish you luck.”

_ “Thanks,”  _ Jonny said, dryly,  _ “But hey, you too. Dallas has been doing pretty good this season and your offense needs a little work.” _

Patrick squawked. “Hey! I'm on offense!”

Jonny laughed from the other line. 

The pilot came on the intercom, told them to turn off any electronic devices. Patrick sighed. “I gotta go. I'll talk to you later, yeah?”

_ “Totally. I gotta get going anyway, before I'm late. Good luck tonight.” _

“Who was that?” Duncs asked when Patrick hung up. 

Patrick shrugged and settled into the seats. “Just a friend.”

▪▪▪

They’re playing in the American Airlines Center later that night. Back in Switzerland, he and Seguin had become fairly good friends. It was also nice to know that he wasn’t the only closeted guy in the NHL.

Well, technically, Tyler was bisexual, but still. Closeted. 

Segs hit his shoulder into Patrick’s when he skated by, and he was greeted with a bedazzling smile. Patrick smiled back, chewing on his mouthguard. 

“Stop flirting!” Seabs chriped from across the ice.

Ha. Ha ha. 

The first period went by hard, not a goal for the announcers to talk about, but Crow was on his A-game and so was the offense. 

Take that, Jonny.

Defense needed some work, so Colliton chewed them out on it, went over a quick play he wanted to emphasize, and went on his way. 

Patrick sat in his stall for the remaining three minutes of the first intermission, unlocked his phone, intending to read some of the latest articles on the NHL app. However, there was a text message notification on his screen. 

**Jonny**

_ You should stop chewing on your mouthguard like that. It could seriously hurt your teeth. _

Patrick couldn’t help the wheeze of laughter that left his lungs. Was this Jon’s way of saying he was looking at his mouth? He hoped so.

**Patrick**

_ r u looking @ my mouth, Jonny Boy?? _

 

**Jonny**

_ You were on the zoom-in before they went to commercial.  _

 

**Patrick**

_ hOw are u even watching the game right now? aren’t u working like 638264827 hours a day?  _

 

**Jonny**

_ Lucky for me, I’ve kept my work at the school today. _

 

**Patrick**

_ lucky 4 u, huh? _

 

It took a minute for Jonathan to respond, the little grey bubble with the three dots appearing and disappearing almost a million times, until he got a reply.

 

**Jonny**

_P _lay_ good out there. I expect nothing less._

 

Patrick- didn't know how to respond to that. 

“Kaner! Let's go!” Someone shouted. Patrick typed out a quick reply and tosses his phone into his duffel, grabbed his stick, and hauled his ass onto the ice. 

**Patrick**

_ if u insist ;) _


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jonny and Patrick have their first date. Feelings ensue.

Jonny asked him out on a date.

_Jonny asked him out on a date._

Patrick was going to hyperventilate.

He spent a good half hour in the shower, then an hour actually trying to pick out what clothes he was going to wear. He had settled on a pair of blue jeans and a button-up, when he got a text.

 

**Jonny**

_Hey, wear your pajamas tonight._

 

Patrick had to read the message a couple times to fully understand it.

**Patrick**

_excuse me??? pj's?_

 

**Jonny**

_Yes_

Patrick groaned, but did as Jonny said. He put his outfit away and got out his pj's. They were simple: just a loose pair of red plaid pants and a t-shirt. Why they were going somewhere where they could wear their pajamas was beyond him.

 

**Jonny**

_What's your apartment number?_

 

**Patrick**

_4th floor D8_

_y i can just walk out to ur car dude_

 

Jonny never responded.

He arrived at seven. He rang the doorbell, and Patrick threw open the door in surprise. “You came to my doorstep?”

“How else am I supposed to get inside?” He shrugged. “May I come in?”

Patrick blinked. “Uh, sure…”

Jonny smiled at him and kissed his cheek in greeting. Patrick blushed and closed the door behind him. “So, where are you taking me that requires pj's as a dress code?”

“Actually, I was thinking we could stay at your place tonight,” Jonny said, “I brought a few movies, and some microwavable popcorn. I also have a stash of candy with me.”

Patrick stared at him, gaping.

For once, Jonny started looking a little nervous. “I know we went out to the movies last time, but I just thought that maybe us watching a movie at home would be nice.”

“No! I mean- yes, yes, it sounds amazing.” Patrick grinned, squeezing Jonny's hand reassuringly. “I'll set up the DVD player. You make the popcorn.”

Jonny relaxed and nodded, kissing Patrick's forehead. He took the backpack off and dropped it on the couch. He zipped opened a pocket to grab the two packages of popcorn and shuffled off to the kitchen.

Patrick’s chest filled with joy.

He searched the backpack until he found a handful of movies: Anchorman, the original Spider-Man, Happy Death Day, Saw, and The Greatest Showman.

“Picked some good ones!” He called out, “Which one do you want to watch?”

“Up to you!”

Patrick settled on Saw. He popped it into the DVD player and let it load. Jonny came in with two big bowls of popcorn and set them on the coffee table. Patrick grabbed the massive bag of candy Jonny had brought -- probably got it at the store on the way here -- filled with chocolate and Jolly Ranchers and sour candies.

They settled on the couch. Jonny took out a fluffy blanket, stuffed at the bottom of the backpack. He wrapped it around their shoulders and tucked Patrick close to his side. Patrick smiled to himself and snuggled closer

Halfway through the movie and four heart attacks in, Patrick realized that this was Jonny’s plan all along, the fucker.

“You're mean,” Patrick mumbled into Jonny's shoulder, hiding himself from the movie, “You did this on purpose.”

He felt Jonny chuckle. “Maybe. But hey, at least in protecting you.”

Patrick closed his eyes and relaxed into the feeling of having Jonny so close. “Always protect me, Jonny. N’ I'll always protect you.”

Jonny kissed the top of his head. “Thank you.”

They got through the rest of the movie, and Patrick cracked his neck. “Got time to watch another?”

Jonny considered it for a minute. “Yeah, I guess so. It's Friday, so I don't have anything to do tomorrow.”

“Cool. Don't have a game, _so,”_ Patrick hopped off the couch and grabbed The Greatest Showman, “we're watching this.”

Jonny got himself comfortable.

He ended up being really into the movie. It was the first time Jonny had seen it, so it was hilarious to Pat to watch Jon shout at the tv at Jenni. He had a feeling it was because Jonny was a little amped up on sugar.

After that, they watched Anchorman. Jonny fell asleep three-fourths of the way through, dead to the world on a sugar crash. Patrick leaned his head on his chest, curled up against him and beneath the blankets.

When the movie ended, Patrick muted the television and snuggled back up against Jonny. He could stay the night. Pat didn't mind.

▪▪▪

Jonny came to slowly, blinked open his eyes, and found a pair of bright blue ones staring right back at him.

Jonny hummed, momentarily blissed by sleep and having Patrick so close to him, before he took in his surroundings.

He sat up hurriedly, inhaling through his nose. “Shit, I fell asleep.”

“You did.” Patrick agreed.

“I'm so sorry,” Jonny gaped, seemingly upset with himself, “It's literally only our first date and I've already slept over.”

“Hey, it's not like I minded,” Patrick reassured, “If it had, I would have woken you. Besides, it's not like we fucked. We’ll wait until the third date for that.”

Jonny blushed high on his cheeks. “You're impossible.”

Patrick chuckled through his nose and smiles innocently up at him. He cracked his neck and groaned. “My back is fucked from this couch.”

“Yoga would help.” Jonny mentioned immediately. “You should try it sometime. I do it a lot. It helps me with stress and stuff. There’s a yoga class I go to-”

Most of the rest of Jonny's words disappear, and Patrick is lost in his imagination of wanting to see Jonny in those tight yoga pants, bent over, ass sticking out in the air. Those poor yoga pants wouldn't stand a chance.

“Go get Denny's,” Patrick interrupted whatever Jonny had gone on about, forcing himself not to get hard from a simple thought, “I'm hungry.”

Jonny stopped speaking and stared at Patrick, mouth parted. Then, he snorted, and let out a series of cackled. “You're _impossible.”_ He repeated, and grabbed his keys and phone. “I'll be back in a half hour.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a bunch of really fluffy scenes written, but I need to get actual plot chapters out before I can post them ahhhh


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short filler where they finally get together. Also, Patrick is always cold. It's much less of a problem then they expected.

It took a month, but they finally got together. 

Patrick had been the one to ask, figured since Jonny initiated all the dates (this was their fourth), that he should man up and pop the question.

They were walking around downtown Chicago in the early of November, the cold of the winter sharp and bitter against their skin. Beanies over their ears, puffy coats and soft scarves wrapping them up warm. 

Patrick made the move to reach his mittened hand over to Jonny's, hold onto it as tight as he could with the fabrics getting in the way. Jonny smiled against the wind and squeezed.

They were talking about everything and nothing, whatever they could because it was easy, always so easy to fall into ramblings and let his guard down when it came to Jonny.

A single snowflake fell onto Jonny's nose, and the dork sneezed, nose scrunching in surprise.

Patrick laughed, probably too loud, probably drawing attention to them, but Patrick didn't bat an eye to them. He grinned, and bumped his shoulder into Jon's.

“Hey,” he said suddenly, and the moment the word left his mouth, he felt faint with nervousness, “Do you, uh, do you want to make this official?”

Jonny paused their walking. 

“Like,” Patrick tried, “Do you want to be my boyfriend? Officially.”

Jonny took a couple moments to blink, before a smile slowly started pulling at his lips. “Damn you, Pat,” he laughed, “I was going to ask  _ you.” _

Patrick felt the color return to his face. He exhaled, relieved, and walked forward into Jonny's arms.

It was a little hard, with the coats, but the snow started coming down harder, and the heat coming from Jonny was too nice to move.

▪▪▪

Jonny learned right away that Patrick ran cold. 

Maybe it's because Jonny grew up in Canada, or maybe it's just how he was born, but he was always  _ hot,  _ never needed more than a coat and some gloves to keep warm in the cold. 

Patrick, however, went out in the cold looking like Ralphie's little brother, Randy, from  _ A Christmas Story.  _

They were lounging at Jonny’s place one day, a couple weeks after they became official. Jonny was reading a book on the corner of the couch while Patrick watched the Kings-Sabres game on the tv.

It wasn't that cold in the apartment. Jonny usually kept the place at a nice sixty-eight degrees, especially during the day. 

Jonny didn't notice Patrick shuffling closer until he was pressed side-to-side against him, and his cold fingertips grabbed his arm through the thin material of his shirt. 

Jonny jumped in surprise. “Jesus! Your fingers are freezing.”

Patrick huffed, put out. “I'm cold. Make it hotter.”

“No, it'll get too warm.”

“But I'm  _ cold.” _

Jonny rolled his eyes. “Brat.” He put a bookmark in his book and set it down. Reaching over to the back of the couch, he grabbed a blanket and rolled it over Patrick's body. 

“I'm still-”

“Hush.” Jonny said, clipped, then wrapped his arms around Patrick, tugged him close.

“Oh.” Pat said softly, and settled against his boyfriend.

That was nice to say. Boyfriend. He had a boyfriend. A  _ super hot  _ boyfriend.

Pat's life was great.

Sharpy called halfway through the third. Patrick had already been half asleep against Jonny, and he whined when he heard Sharpy's ringtone blare through the little speakers of his phone. 

“Wha’d'yuh want?” Pat slured, voice thick with sluggishness and sleep. 

_ “Well, I was going to ask if you wanted to come out with me and some of the guys, but you seem partially dead.” _

Patrick chuckled tiredly. “Mmm, pretty much.”

Jonny's hand came down to run through his hair, and Patrick preened at the attention.  _ God,  _ that felt good. 

_ “I'll let you sleep. See you at the game tomorrow.” _

“Mhm. Game, yeah.” He hung up and promptly shoved his face into Jonny's left pec. He bit at it, playful, and Jonny huffed out a chuckle.

“Brat.” He repeated. 

Patrick just smiled and snuggled closer.

▪▪▪

They blew the game.

Like, literally, blew it. It was an embarrassing 7-1 end score against the Blues -- the  _ Blues,  _ dammit -- on home ice. 

The locker room was silent, a heavy disappointment laying thick in the air. Colliton didn't chew them out, they'd been on a losing streak for about four games now. He told them what needed to be worked on, opened up an optional practice tomorrow, that their next practice two days from today was mandatory. 

He left, and Patrick felt like a failure. No goals, no assists. Henri had been the only one to score, and it was messy. A goal is a goal, better than a shutout, but it stung every time he remembered the score.

He was halfway to his place when he made a split second decision and made a U-Turn.

He ended up face to face with Jonny's door, and was knocking on it before he could stop himself. 

Jonny opened the door, and Patrick fell into his arms the moment he saw him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jonny and Patrick spend Christmas apart. It makes Patrick sadder than he thought it would.

Christmas was fast approaching, and honestly, Patrick's a little depressed about it.

Don't get him wrong, he's happy to go home and see his family, really. But he doesn't want to leave Jonny.

Jonny had told him about a week ago that he was going home to Winnipeg for Christmas. He'd be gone longer than Patrick, since Pat had a date he needed to be back, and Jonny didn't.

Well, technically Jonny had to be back by the time school started up again, but that was a week and a half longer than what Patrick had.

Patrick was a little bit jealous.

“I'll be back on the thirtieth.” Jonny told him the day that he left. The school had gotten out the day before, and Jonny had video chatted with him the moment he got home, snuggled under the covers while he marathoned old episodes of _White Collar._

Patrick tried not to act like he was sad. He shouldn't be sad. Jonny was going to see his family and deserved to. There was no reason he needed to be upset about that.

“Okay,” he said instead, “I'll be back on the twenty-seventh.”

Jonny nodded and knocked his head gently against Patrick's. “We'll be together by New Years.”

Patrick sighed and closed his eyes. They'd only been together for about a month, but it still sucked that they wouldn't spend Christmas together -- their first Christmas as a couple.

Jonny leaned back to peck Patrick’s cheek. “I'll see you later.”

Patrick watched his car drive off from the doorway, sullen.

▪▪▪

Christmas Eve came slower without Jonny. It seemed like every time Jonny was around, the day seemed to fly. Without him, the day never _ended._

Most of the guys had taken their families and gone home to wherever they came from, including Sharpy and Seabs. He'd call Duncs, but he had Colton for the holiday and didn't want to disturb them.

He spent the morning of Christmas Eve sad and bored.

He went out to the gym for a while, tried to get his mind away from what Jonny was doing in Winnipeg. He was on the elliptical when he thought of Jonny, sitting around a table full of people, laughing while shoving his face with mashed potatoes.

Patrick's chest tightened, because he wanted to be there _so bad._ He wanted to see Jonny so bad.

He called his parents, then his sisters, to wish them a merry Christmas and to check in on them.

 _“You have a boyfriend?”_ His mom said, surprised. _“That's great, honey! We should meet him soon.”_

“Yeah,” Patrick breathed, remembering how long it would be until Jonny came back, “Soon.”

Eventually, the sun set, and dinner time came around. Patrick cooked himself a small turkey and ordered Thai food. He settled into the couch to begin his binge watching of Christmas movies.

He'd just begun _National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation,_ when his phone buzzed, and buzzed, and buzzed again.

He picked it up off the coffee table to see his screen lit up with an incoming FaceTime request.

It was Jonny.

Hurriedly, the connected the call, and in three short seconds, Jonny's face was popping up on the screen.

 _“Hey babe!”_ He greeted, beaming, and Patrick brightened at the nickname.

“Hey!” Patrick said back, just as enthusiastic. “How are you?”

_“I've been good. It's great to see my family again. It's been a while.”_

“Psh. I know the feeling,” Patrick chuckled. He relaxed, laid back into the couch cushions, “I miss you.”

Jonny smiled at him, soft. _“I miss you, too. It's weird. I’m so used to calling you to rant when the stove breaks.”_

“You really need to get that thing looked at,” Pat scoffed, “It's probably burning down your place as we speak.”

_“Probably.”_

After that, they went on to talk about how their breaks had been so far, plans for tomorrow, anything Patrick could think up to keep their conversation going.

Suddenly, Patrick was hit with a terrifying thought. “Am I interrupting family stuff?”

Jonny looked startled for a minute, but he recovered. _“No, don't worry. We're all kind of chilling right now. Maman's cooked all day, so she's resting. I think she's talking with David’s wife, Melissa, and-”_

There was a sudden crash from Jonny's side of the phone, followed by some muffled sounds, possibly some curse words.

“What was that?” Patrick asked, alarmed.

Jonny held up a finger for him to wait, and called out to someone in French.

 _Shit,_ Patrick thought. He’d never actually heard Jonny speaking French before, and damn was that hot.

Patrick had no idea what he was saying.

Jonny and the person shouted back and forth for a bit, until Jonny got up and closed his bedroom door. When he was back in frame, he exhaled in amusement.

_“Dad and David are trying to make a pie. I don't think it's going very well.”_

Patrick bit his lip to suppress his giggles.

Jonny smiled at him, goofy. They ended up talking way past sundown. At some point, Patrick had migrated into his own bedroom and wrapped himself up in the covers.

Jonny had his bedside lamp on so Pat could see him in the dark, and was curled up in his duvet, laying on his arm, which was laying on his pillow.

 _“It's past midnight,”_ Jonny mumbled, quiet, and if it hadn't been equally as quiet in his own apartment, he wouldn't have been able to hear him, _“We've been talking for four hours. How is my phone not dead? Crap I should probably check that.”_

He noticed Jonny's eyelids fluttering. He squeezed them for a moment, then blinked them back open.

Jonny moved to do something on his phone screen, then settled back into the pillows. _“It's on thirteen percent.”_

“Mine's on ten.” Patrick laughed airily. “God, I hate you, you know. You make me feel like some little teenager.”

_“Aww, am I your high school crush, Peeks?”_

“Fuck you,” Patrick fired back, with no heat behind it, “I hate that nickname. Curse Sharpy for ever calling me that.”

_“We're getting off subject.”_

“No we're not.” Pat lied.

Jonny's smirk got wide. Patrick rolled his eyes. “Yeah, whatever.”

Jonny's eyelids did that fluttery thing again, and Patrick figured that was a tell-tale sign that it was time to call it.

So, Patrick took a breath through his nose. “You look tired.”

Jonny shrugged. _“A little. I'm okay, though.”_

Patrick tutted at him. “No no no, if I'm not allowed to stay up later than I want to, neither are you. Go to sleep, babe, I'll be here in the morning.”

Jonny frowned, _“But you won't be with me.”_

That's what Patrick's been saying all along, but he keeps quiet.

“I'm just a phone call away, yeah? You need your rest just as much as I do.”

Jonny sighed, but let Patrick win this one. _“Fine, I'll throw in. I'll talk to you tomorrow.”_

“Course. Goodnight, Jonny.”

_“Goodnight, Pat.”_

The call ended, and Patrick rolled onto his back on the mattress, grinning from ear to ear.

Jonny plugged his phone in and laid it on the bedside table to charge. He went to turn the light off when there was a knock on his bedroom door.

_“Entrez.”_

His mother opened the door, and he immediately sat up. “Maman? Is something wrong?”

“No, no, nothing like that,” she assured, “I was going to come in to say goodnight, but I heard you on the phone.”

“Oh,” Jonny blushed, “That was just Patrick.”

His mother hummed, like she knew that already. “You were talking for quite a while.”

“It wasn't that long.”

“I came at nine, Jonathan.”

Jonny's face got redder.

His mother smiled, knowingly. “Whenever you'd like to bring him here, I'd love to meet him.”

“Maman,” he groaned, “It's only been a month.”

Adrée shrugged. “Any person who you decide talking to is more important that sleep, is someone very important to you.” She teases.

_“Maman.”_

She kissed him on the head. _“Bonne nuit, ma petit garçon.”_

“Maman,” he huffed, “I'm not a little boy anymore.”

“Maybe not,” she said, “But you always will be to me.”

She left and shut the door behind her, leaving Jonny to his thoughts. He snuggled into the blankets, tucking himself in nice and warm, and fell asleep dreaming of Patrick.

He'd be home soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Garghhh I have so many fluffy pieces of this written and I don't know when to put them in nahhh


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jonny comes home.

Patrick was in the middle of lunch with the guys when his phone buzzed.

**Jonny**

_My plane came early. I just got home._

Patrick was up and out of his seat in a flurry, tossing a wad of bills on the table while typing out, _omw babe._

“Sorry,” he told them, “Family emergency.”

He got the fuck out of there in record time and drove his ass to Jonny's.

_Jonny was home._

Pat didn't have a key, not yet.

He turned onto Jonny's street, and as he approached Jonny's house, he saw one of Jonny's neighbors walking their dog. They waved at Patrick as they passed. Patrick had a brief worry that they knew who he was, would see him going to Jonny's, but figured even so, they wouldn't know they were together.

Patrick pulled into the driveway. He went to park beside Jonny's car, but decided hey, if he parks behind Jonny's car, Jonny can't get anywhere and won't leave again.

So, his thirty year old self parked his car behind Jonny's to trap him.

He counted the strides it took to get to the doorstep -- one, two, three, four. He fiddled with his keys and wallet, shoving them in his pockets -- five, six, seven -- and rang the doorbell.

The person living to Jonny's left had a cat laying in the window sill. It was staring at him, judging, and Patrick was too wound up to stop himself from flipping it off.

Which, of course, was the moment Jonny pulled open the door. He furrowed his eyebrows and peeked out the door. He looked at Pat with that same judging look.

“Did you just flip off the Delarosa's cat?”

Patrick harrumphed childishly. “He was looking at me weird.”

Jonny rolled his eyes, but smiled, and tugged Patrick inside. Pat went easy, and the moment the door was closed, Patrick was leaping into his arms and taking them down to the ground.

Jonny landed with a thud, big arms wrapped around Patrick to keep him from hitting his head. “Oh my God, you're insufferable.”

Patrick just smiled at him innocently. “So I've been told.”

Jonny laughed up at him, mouth crinkled and eyes gleaming. It would be so easy to kiss him, but it's only been a month or so. Patrick can't rush this.

Instead, he tucked his face into the juncture of Jonny's neck and shoulder, melting against his boyfriend. Jonny's hands flatten out and settle against Pat's back. One rested against the middle of his spine, the other at the base, right by the curve of his ass.

“Missed you.” Pat breathed, nosing at Jonny's skin, felt his heartbeat under his lips.

Jonny hummed beneath him, pressing his face into Patrick's hair. “Missed you, too.”

They laid like that for a while, not moving.

▪▪▪

When they did move, is was so Jonny could get a blanket and some pillows. Patrick wasn't very happy to let him go, and pouted on the floor until Jonny came back and cuddled him.

“Sharpy's having a party on New Year's Eve,” Pat told him, snuggled up against him by the fireplace, facing him face-to-face, “You should come with me. I'll tell them you're a friend.”

“Well,” Jonny said, “I _am_ your friend.”

Patrick snorted, then went silent. He focused on the hand running through his hair, playing with his curls and the baby hairs on his neck. He sighed contently and curled in closer.

“You're not- you're not upset, right?” Pat asked, quiet, “About keeping us a secret?”

Jonny tugged Pat’s hair a little, a silent scolding. “Stop that. I've told you before, no I'm not upset.”

Patrick shrugged, embarrassed and shy. “It's just- you don't have _any_ idea how much I want to take you out and show you to the world, show them how _hard_ I scored. I don't want to hide. But you know how the NHL is; you know how fans can be.”

Jonny waited for him to continue.

“I just don't want you to feel like I'm embarrassed by you or anything. Because I'm _not._ I want to be able to hold hands with you at family skate. I want to take you on dates without a hoodie and sunglasses and some dumb baseball cap. But I _can't.”_

“Pat,” Jonny soothed, “Calm down. Why didn't you tell me you were worried about this? Of course I understand. I knew going into this relationship that we'd have to lay low. If I wasn't up for it, I wouldn't have gone through with it.”

“Yeah?” Patrick asked, hopeful.

Jonny smiled fondly at him and kissed his cheek, soft lips lingering over the skin. “Yeah.”

Patrick relaxed and basked in the warmth his boyfriend was letting off. “One day, I'll win the Cup again. And I'll kiss you out on the ice in front of everyone. Just you wait.”

He sounded so sure of himself, so determined. It made Jonny smile against Pat's cheek. “I look forward to it.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patrick sneaks a picture of Jonny when he's not looking. A mini photoshoot and sexual tension ensue.

Everyone always talks about the bad parts of a secret relationship, but they never highlight the perks.

For instance- privacy. The press didn’t know Jonny existed, therefore can’t follow him, therefore it was much easier to get a visitor’s pass into the school and surprise Jonny after classes were over, bring him some leftover spaghetti from the pre-game meal from the night before and pester him while he worked.

There was also the feeling of finally getting alone together, no matter what they were doing.

It shouldn’t make sense and it doesn’t, but there’s a feeling Patrick gets whenever Jonny walks through his door after a week of not being able to see each other and just- holding him. Knowing that this was their secret --  their most precious, prized possession.

They were lounging around one Saturday when Jon didn’t have any work and Pat didn’t have a game. They were watching an old black and white movie -- Captain Blood -- and lying against one another on the couch.

Patrick was draped across Jonny’s lap, playing on his phone, while Jonny responded to an email one of his students had sent.

He got a sudden idea, and quickly opened the Snapchat app. He’s not on Snapchat much, just to see what his sisters were up to, and some of the other guys.

He loaded the filters, scrolled around to find the right one. He settled on the classic dog filter and aimed up at his boyfriend.

“Psst.”

“Hm?” Jon looked down at him, face no longer shielded by his phone, and Patrick snapped the picture the second the filter loaded.

“What did you do?” Jonathan glared, and Patrick showed him the phone with an innocent smile on his face.

“Just took a picture of you, babe.”

Jonny saw the picture and squawked.

“Come on, I think you look cute!” Patrick gushed like some teenage fangirl, heart clenching. He loved moments like this, where Jonny was a dorky idiot and Patrick had that little reminder in the back of his head that Jon was _his_ dorky idiot.

Jonathan huffed, though, so Patrick said, “Okay, what if I'm in one with you?”

Jonathan squinted, considering. Patrick loaded the filters again and scrolled until the one with the pink hearts above their heads came up.

He turned the camera to selfie mode and snuggled up against Jonathan’s midsection.

“Are you cuddling my abs?”

“You can shut up.”

Jonathan snorted, and Patrick whined about him moving and messing up the filter focus. Patrick tilted the camera so it got them both, hearts above their heads, and snapped the picture.

“Look how nice we look,” Pat smiled, “That’s a nice picture of us.”

Jonathan chuckled and dropped his head, and Patrick leaned up, because his lips were _right there,_ and stopped. They hadn't had their first kiss yet, and Pat wanted to do this relationship right, wanted this to go somewhere.

So, he leaned up and nuzzled his nose against Jon's cheek. He felt Jonny smile, and the brunet nudged at him.

“I am a little disappointed,” Pat said, “that you can't tell I'm in your lap.”

Jonathan didn't respond for a moment, seeming to ponder Patrick’s words. Then, “You have a selfie-stick, right?”

“Uh, duh? I have three younger sisters. My stick is _bedazzled.”_

Once Patrick fished it from his closet, Jon set Pat's phone up in it. Then, he shifted around on the couch, legs spreading a little more, and said, “C’mere.”

It took Patrick a second to understand, but when he did, his face heated.

He sat down on Jonny's lap, knees on either side of Jon's thighs. Bashfully, he hid his face in Jonny's shoulder, because he's never done _this_ before. Never been in this position for _cuddling_ or anything that wasn't sexual.

There was a camera shutter, then the feel of Jonny's soft lips pressing against his temple, and another camera shutter.

“Look at me, Pat.” Jonny whispered, soft and gentle.

Gathering courage, Patrick lifted his head and met Jonathan's eyes. He smiled at Pat, fond. “Why're you getting so shy? It's only me.”

Patrick shrugged half-heartedly. “It's _you._ It's all of you.”

“You're too cute.” Jon said, and then he was leaning forward and locking his lips onto Pat's, and it took a second for them to fit together but then they did and _yep,_ Patrick was kissing Jonny and it was everything Patrick had ever wanted.

It wasn't perfect, not by a long shot. Patrick didn't know what Jon liked; Jon didn't know what Pat liked, how to make it work. But it was Jon- it was _good._ It was every word that was better than good.

The camera went off again, and then Jon was dropping the selfie-stick and wrapping his arms around Patrick, pulled him closer and locked his hands there. Patrick couldn't help the moan that slipped out. He wound his arms around Jonny's neck, yanked him close.

They made out for the next ten minutes, just like that, on the couch with Patrick in Jonny's lap. It didn't escalate any from there, but it was nice, really nice, sent a warm pool of happiness settling in Patrick's stomach.

They cuddled up against each other afterwards, Pat's lips bitten red and full. He scrolled through the pictures Jon had taken and smiled at them all.

They were on the regular Apple camera. The lighting was actually pretty good, focus not too shaky. There was the one with Patrick hiding timid in Jon's shoulder, Jon looking at him so fondly, and wow, was it something to be able to see him sitting in Jon's lap like that.

There was the one with Jon kissing his temple, and both their faces were hidden in that one, but it sent a hot zing of _something_ down his spine.

The last one was of them kissing. From the side angle it was taken from, you couldn't really tell who Jon was, couldn't make out his face too much. There was a soft glow coming from the lamp behind them, and it made Jon's skin look even tanner against Patrick's paleness.

Patrick loved the photos with all his heart.

He made the last one his home screen, put the photos in his favorites, and saved all three to his Google Drive, just in case.

Patrick rested his head on one of Jonny's big thighs. He squeezed it, and Jonny laughed at him. Patrick smiled at the rumble he felt on the back of his head. Jon grabbed the blanket on the back of the couch and laid it over Patrick’s body.

Pat closed his eyes and let himself fall into a peaceful sleep, knowing Jonny was right there and would be when he woke up.

▪▪▪

Later, Patrick went on a two day road trip. While he was gone, he scrolled through the pictures that they'd taken, smiling and cheeks burning at the memory.

If the guys noticed, they didn't say anything about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it's been a bit! I'm trying to make a plot I swear I had one somewhere lmao.
> 
> In other news, first kiss!!!!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jonny and Pat spend their Sunday night watching Netflix and exchanging handjobs on the living room couch.

If he doesn't have a game on Sunday nights, it becomes a thing for Patrick to go over to Jonny’s while he's grading papers or making lesson plans.

Patrick was currently curled up against Jonny’s side while he graded and edited French paragraphs that his students had written. Breaking Bad was playing on Netflix, and it's one of Patrick's favorites, but he's too distracted by Jonny’s thick thighs in his plaid pajama pants.

Patrick's 98% positive Jonny has underwear on, but honestly, he can't be too sure.

Just the thought of Jonny going commando, sitting there while grading papers with his dick just _there,_ has Patrick chubbing up already.

And he decided, they'd been together long enough, and if Jonny wanted him to stop, he would tell him.

He started slow. He draped himself over Jonny's side, put a hand on the middle of his thigh. Jonny didn't seem to mind, barely paid him any attention as he circled a misspelled word in purple pen and wrote the correct word out to the side.

Patrick rubbed his hand up and down Jonny’s thigh, before slowly inching up towards Jonny's crotch. He doesn't seem to notice until Pat's hand is just a finger away, and when he did, he froze.

Pat kept going, cupped Jonny's hardening length, and revelled in the little grunt his boyfriend let out, “Pat.”

“Hm?” He hummed, thumb rubbing circles against it. Jonny breathed out shakily, but didn't tell him to stop. Patrick dipped his thumb into the waistband, then slipped his hand inside.

_Jonny wasn’t wearing underwear._

“Fuckin’ knew it,” Patrick breathed, “You wanted this, didn't you?”

“Ngh, yeah Pat. Was hoping.” Jonny grunted, gripping his pen and his binder tightly. “C'mon.”

“Shh, I'll get you there, baby.” Patrick wrapped his fingers around Jonny's shaft, hot and heavy in his hand. Jonny closed his eyes and breathed shallow, shifting his hips.

Patrick stroked Jonny off, using his precome as lube. Jonny slammed his binder shut, tossing it to the floor in order to grab Patrick's shoulder and the arm of the couch.

 _“Fuck,_ your hands.” Jonny gasped when Patrick flicked his thumb over the head, then slid it down to rub on the sensitive underside of his cock.

Pat pulled Jonny's pants down to his knees to get his dick out, stroking faster and tighter. He got a feel of what Jonny liked pretty quick: tight at the head, thumb constantly rubbing against the underside of his dick, occasionally swiping the head.

Jonny was panting hard, letting out little _“ah-ah-ah”_ s, squirming desperately while trying to buck up into Patrick's grip. “Shit, shit, c'mon baby, I'm right there.” He clenched his eyes shut, moaning and whimpering into the open air.

Jonny cried out when he came, shooting onto his shirt and Pat’s hand. Patrick jerked him through the aftershocks, let go when Jonny started twitching at the insensitivity. He collapsed back into the cushions, struggling  for air.

Patrick grinned at him, smug. He gave Jonny some time to come down, wiped off his hand with a tissue, said _“Kobe,”_ and dunked it in the trash can, basketball style.

Jonny looked at him through lazy eyes. “Why do I like you again?”

“Cause I'm the coolest.” Patrick remarked, and came to him when Jonny held out an arm. He snuggled up against his side, and Jonny wasted no time in getting his hands down the front of Patrick's pants to jerk him off.

It was embarrassing how fast he hurtled to the edge after that. Jonny's _hand_ was on his _dick_ so he couldn't be held responsible for anything he did or said during that time. He shoved his face in Jonny's big shoulder, whimpering and moaning without a care in the world, too lost in the feeling.

“So good, Jonny,” he gasped, panting wetly into his boyfriend's neck, “Yeah, yeah, just -- _ungh_ \--  like that.”

Jonny attached his mouth to the side of Pat's neck, biting down hard on the flesh. Patrick's hips jerked up into his grip as Jonny started sucking and licking over the mark.

Patrick came with a shout, collapsing into Jonny's free arm to curl up against him, shaking as Jonny strokes him past oversensitivity.

He probably should have warned Jonny that he's pretty much boneless after he's come, but Jonny doesn't seem to mind. He cuddled him while Patrick got his breath back, kissing across his neck and making his way down.

He hooked a finger under the collar of Pat's shirt, sucked a mark into the skin on Patrick's clavicle. Patrick laid back and let him do it, floating in the feeling of Jonny, drowning in him along the way.

▪▪▪

Pat crashed at Jonny's that night, which meant he was rudely woken up at five thirty by Jonny’s phone alarm. They'd found their way to the bedroom at some point, too tired to do anything more than snuggle up together and sleep.

“If you d’n't shut that ‘ff,” Patrick grumbled into his pillow, “‘n goin’ t’ snap it ‘n half.”

His lisp was always more prominent when he's just woken up, but frankly, he was too tired to give a fuck at the moment.

His pillow moved, and it took him a few drowsy, sleep-dumb moments to realize that he was laying on Jonny's shoulder.

Jonny slipped out from under him, and Patrick whined at the loss of heat. Jonny shushed him, bent down to brush back his curls and kiss his forehead. “Go back to sleep,” he whispered, “I've got to get to school.”

For the next few minutes, he heard Jonny puttering around the bedroom. He cracked hid eyes open just in time to see him pull his pants up over his huge ass and connect off his belt. It was a fantastic view, and it made Patrick's dick stir.

Jonny disappeared into the bathroom, and Patrick pushed his face into Jonny's pillow, taking in his scent of his fancy Canadian cologne. By the time Jonny came back, Patrick was ready to shove Jonny between his legs and have him go to town.

He rolled over onto his back, hard-on tenting his boxers and the sheets. Jonny heaved a sigh, exasperated. “I’ve gotta go to work, babe.”

Patrick pouted, but accepted the kiss Jonny pressed to his lips. “Wish you could stay.”

“Shoulda come over on Saturday.”

“But Sunday is our special day.” Patrick pouted harder.

Jonny chuckled against the blond’s lips. “Mm. Just wait until summer vacation.”

Patrick imagined pool sex and morning sex and late-night cuddling. He wanted it fiercely.

Jonny pulled away, and leaned down to cheekily kiss the tent in the sheets. Patrick jolted in surprise, but Jonny was already moving away.

Patrick glared. “You're a dick.”

Jonny just shrugged with a smug grin and headed to the kitchen.

▪▪▪

Patrick was at the arena for morning skate three hours later. He walked into the locker room, bag slung around his neck, hanging down in front of his abdomen like a high school jock. Almost instantly, people started whistling and cat-calling.

“Damn, Kaner! Have fun last night?”

It took a minute, but the moment he realized they were talking about the _hickeys,_ he slapped his hand to his neck to cover them.

“Find yourself a nice girl, eh?” Sharpy smirked, tossing his arm around Pat's shoulders.

Patrick gave a small, forced smile. “You know it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M TRYING TO MAKE PLOT I SWEAR


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patrick surprises Jonny at work.

It was February now, and Valentine’s Day is coming up. Jonny had been trying to plan something romantic, but he was limited to where they could go and what they could do without Patrick getting caught.

Jonny has just settled on his spot on the bleachers of the gym for the weekly faculty meeting, when phone buzzed with a message.

**Patty**

_meet up when u get out?_

 

**Jonny**

_I wish I could :( but there's a faculty meeting and I won't get out until 5:30_

 

**Patty**

_aw. i'll be at the arena by then_

 

**Jonny**

_I know. I'm sorry baby. We'll see each other soon_

 

**Patty**

_fine. have fun in ur lame faculty meeting_

 

**Jonny**

_I'll try my absolute best_

 

**Patty**

_no u wont_

 

**Jonny**

_No I won't_

 The meeting started like they always do: grades, dress code, students shouldn't be standing by the door before the bell rings, etcetera. It was boring as all hell, until Principal Newman mentioned something about having a group of visitors in the building on Friday.

“Who?” Ms. Grandluv asked from the back of the room, and there was a chorus of agreed murmurs.

“They've asked us not to say,” Principal Newman told them, “They want to surprise the teachers as well as the students. Just be prepared for tomorrow. They'll be visiting class to class, and will be in the rotating out in the lunchroom during all three lunches.”

And then finally, _finally,_ the court was adjourned and Jonny could hightail it out of there. He had done the math on his arm with a sharpie. He only needed to break two speeding laws to get home in time for the puck drop.

▪▪▪

If he was being honest, Jonny had forgotten all about the visitors until the principal came on the intercom in the middle of his first period, to announce that the visitors were in the building, to be on everyone's best behavior, and so on and so forth.

Jonny was halfway through his lesson on the history of French culture when the sound of his classroom door unlocking interrupted him.

One of the assistant principals came in, followed by Seabs, Brinksy, Stromer, Krugs, and more importantly, _Patrick._

His students erupted with cheers and excited whispering. Jonny stared at the blond, donned in his Hawks jersey that was loose without the pads underneath, jaw gaping like a fish.

He was quick to recover and cleared his throat, whistling once over the chatter. His students fell silent, and he smiled at them in thanks.

Seabs blinked. “That’s actually really impressive.”

“Thank you,” Jonny said, pretending he wasn't blushing high on his cheeks, “Uh, should I let you take over, or…?”

“Oh no, please,” Patrick pretended like it didn't matter, “Continue.”

_“Continuer.”_ Jonny corrected, just because he could, then went on with his lesson.

He was always acutely aware of Patrick. Every movement, ever whispered comment to a teammate or a student, every smug grin that showed off his stupid gap teeth that Jonny loved so much.

He cut the lesson short, because, “I'll just make you suffer through the rest tomorrow.”

His students groaned, but their annoyance quickly vanished when Seabs started talking.

Jonny took a seat behind his desk and tried to calm his racing heart. Apparently, the four Hawks were going to something about teamwork and bonding or whatever. Patrick sat himself in the empty desk by Jonny's. It's there in case any of his students get on his nerves to the point where he can make them suffer by sitting in his presence.

“So, Mr. Toes,” Patrick asked, getting his name wrong on purpose. Jonny wasn't sure if it was to make it look like they'd never met before, or just because he was a little _shit,_ but either way, it was smart, “Got any ideas on how we can incorporate teamwork into your French work?”

_Oh, you're using big words now,_ is on the tip of his tongue, but he bites it in attempt to stop himself.

“Well, let's see,” he said instead, “Why don't you guys go through the textbooks and find words or phrases, and work together to try to figure out which each one translates to.”

Patrick stole the teacher-version textbook off his desk to flip through it. Stromer clapped his hands, and it was cute how eager he looked. “Okay guys! Let's group into five, and-”

“Actually, I was thinking about getting a personal French lesson from Mr. Toes, here.”

The class giggled, and Jonathan rolled his eyes. “It's actually pronounced tayves.”

Patrick blinked dumbly, “Huh.”

“Okay! Four groups!”

When Jonny was sure the students and players were busy with the work, he immediately reached out and pinched Patrick on the thigh with his thumb and index finger nails.

Patrick hissed and jerked his leg back, kicking at Jonny's foot in retaliation. “You’re mean.”

_“Patrick,”_ he said helplessly, “Help me out here.”

The blond looked absolutely ecstatic that Jonny was both happy and suffering from the bane of Pat’s existence. “I just figured that the students _might_ need a little extra cheering up, since they have until April before they get anymore time off. And it _just so happened_ that you work at the same school I chose!”

Jonny has no idea what to do.

“Hey,” Patrick punched his knee lightly, “I'm heading off to one more class down the hall, and then I'm yours the rest of the day. You get to show me the ropes.”

“Aren't you in rotations?”

“Technically. But I mentioned wanting to hang around the language hall more than a couple of times, so I think they got the hint.”

Jonny rubbed his face, not believing that this is what his life has come to. “Alright. Alright. Fourth block is my lunch period, and seventh is my free period planning. You'll be in here the whole time, I assume?”

Patrick does a stupid mouth pop he saw someone do on the internet. “Sure am. Media is dropping by the auditorium after school gets out, and since we all arrived by SUV, I figured I could go home with you.”

He said it quiet, so no one else heard, and Jonny realized how much Pat is risking by coming here with his teammates and press.

Jonny's smile goes soft. “Okay, Pat, sounds good to me.”

▪▪▪

Jonny's barely able to get through the rest of his classes up until his lunch period. The bell rings, and the students bolt for the door, shoving each other out of the way so they can get to the cafeteria first.

Patrick's been at the back of the room since the middle of second, and Jonny can tell he already adores all of the students (except like, four).

“It gets worse,” Jonny assured him, “Wait until sixth.”

He’d packed his own lunch -- curse his intolerable stomach -- and pulled it out to dig around for his Caesar salad, when he heard his door lock.

And then suddenly, Patrick's _in his lap,_ in the school, inside his classroom where anyone could be walking by outside.

“Have you lost your _mind?”_ Jonny snapped, pushing his food away to grab his boyfriend’s hips before he fell.

Patrick shrugged. “Maybe. My American-ness can only take so much French, Jonny.”

Jonny thunked his head against Patrick's shoulder, giving up. “Just be careful. Administration has keys to the classrooms.”

Patrick nodded, grateful for the warning, and sadly slid off his boyfriend’s lap. He pulled a desk next to Jonny's and sat down, sliding until his butt was at the edge of the chair and his legs were bent and sprawled.

Jonny looked at him unamused. “You look like a fuckboy.”

“I'm a hot fuckboy, though.”

“Debatable.”

“Asshole,” Patrick snorted, then opened his mouth, demanding, “Ah.”

“You're _insufferable.”_ Jonny huffed, stabbed his salad and a piece of chicken, and fed it to the blond.

Patrick hummed around the fork. He winked, because he's determined to make Jonny's life miserable, and thanked him with a kiss on the cheek.

“I'm gonna dive into the lunchroom real quick and get something to eat,” he said, “Anything in there you can eat?”

Jonny pondered. “Nachos. But don't get the cheese. It's too pastel to not be poisoned. Get the little cups of cheese by the toppings area.”

“Noted.” He pressed his mouth to Jonny's, soft, before slipping out the door and leaving it cracked.

When he returned with a styrofoam plate filled with beef nachos and a carton of milk, Jonny was three tests into grading. Patrick sat back down in his seat and dug in.

“Don't you think your team will be curious as to why you're not leaving this classroom?” Jonny asked, writing a messy 100 at the top of the next test.

“Maybe,” Patrick shrugged, “It's not like I care. Besides, I'm not gonna give them the satisfaction of knowing all my business.”

Jonny smiled at him, small. Patrick scooped up some beef and shredded cheese and shoved it at Jonny's face. Jonny opened his mouth obediently and let Patrick push the chip into his face.

“Th’nk y’.” He mumbled, mouth full of chip, and pecked Patrick’s lips.

The bell rang, signalling the end of lunch. Patrick sighed, put out, but finished up and threw away his trash. By the time he'd pushed the desk back into place, the students had begun trickling inside.

Through the rest of his periods, he kept shortening his lesson so that the alternating Hawks groups had more time to conversate with the students.

Patrick stuck to Jonny's side the whole time, hanging out with groups by Jonny's desk. Jonny would walk around and go to each group, see if they needed any help. Patrick was enamoured by how Jonny worked with them, so easygoing and nonthreatening.

When sixth period ended, Patrick was able to sneak over to Jonny and whisper, “I'll be back after the interview. How long you staying?”

“Long as you want me to.”

“Good,” Pat smiled, “I'll be back.”

Patrick followed his teammates out the door. Jonny watched him go, immediately missing his presence.

He sat down at his desk and went back to grading tests. Most students were improving, which was always great to see. But of course, there were slackers, and those who just didn't understand.

Jonny grabbed a notepad and a pen, scribbling down the names of students he needed to talk to about their grades and tutoring opportunities.

He eventually finished grading. The highest grade put a paperclip over fourth block's tests and put them in his desk drawer with a sticky note stuck to the top test that said _4th._

He started writing up Monday's lesson plan when the door closed suddenly, startling Jonny from his seat.

“Sorry.” Patrick chuckled, looking not the least bit sorry. “We're home free.”

“Where do the guys think you are?”

“Meeting up with the assistant principals, thank them or something.” Patrick waved his hand nonchalantly. “That's Colliton's job.”

Jonny snorted. Patrick walked over and dropped himself in Jonny's lap for the second time that day. He leaned his head on Jonny's shoulder, an arm coming up to hook around his neck.

“And you call me a sap.” Jon grinned, but he wrapped his left arm around Patrick’s waist and used his right to type up the rest of the lesson plan.

“You redecorated since the last time I was here,” Patrick mentioned, looking around the classroom as much as he could without moving his head from Jonny's shoulder, “It's nice.”

“You haven't brought me lunch in a while,” Jonny pouted, “I miss your terrible cooking.”

“Hey, fuck you! My spaghetti is amazing.”

Jonny grinned into Patrick's neck, pressed a kiss to the skin there. It was quiet in the room, save for the click-clacking of the keyboard. Patrick kissed Jonny’s shoulder, then up his neck, sunk his teeth lightly into the side.

“Pat.”

“Hm?” Patrick moved up to Jonny's jaw, nipping, then to his lips, kissing hungrily. Jonny let him for a bit before pulling back. “Hey. We're in public.”

“In your locked classroom without cameras.” Patrick retorted. “C'mon, I say you fuck me on your desk.”

“Wh- _Patrick.”_ Jonny scolded, but he could feel himself chub up already, loving the idea of fucking Pat silly over his desk. “I could get _fired.”_

“Only if we're caught.”

Jonny stood suddenly, and Patrick toppled over. But Jonny grabbed him by the arm and pushed him up against his desk, back and back and back until he was bent flat against the desk, back to the wood and staring wide-eyed at Jonny.

Jonny stared hard. “You're terrible.”

Patrick grinned.

“I'm not fucking you on my desk at school, Patrick,” Jonny warned, “But maybe I should get a desk for my house. _That,_ I will happily fuck you brainless on.”

Patrick shivered. He reached forward to hold Jonny by the waist, hooking his thumbs into the belt loops there. “I'll hold you to that.”

Jonny's desk was on the wall the door was attached to, which means Jonny could kiss Patrick to his heart's desire and not have to worry about prying eyes in the thin, rectangular window.

“We should go home,” Jonny mumbled against his lips, then hurriedly corrected himself, “Er- I mean. We should go to one of our places. Go home. To your home. Or mine.”

Patrick bit his bottom lip to keep from laughing. “You done?”

Jonny deflated a little, sheepish. “Yeah.”

“Good,” Pat said and pecked him again, “Take me to yours. We might get ambushed if we go to mine.”

“Kay.” Jonny agreed and started to pack up his things. Patrick kept right where he was, sitting on the edge of Jonny's desk. Occasionally, Jonny would glance up and glare, then yank a piece of paper from underneath Patrick’s butt.

“Oops.”

Eventually, Jonny clocked out for the day. Together, they snuck Patrick out of the school and got him safely to Jonny's car.

“I still can't believe you showed up at my work with your team.” Jonny brought up later on, when they were cuddling naked in Jonny's bed. “What if we'd slipped up?”

“We didn't.” Said Patrick. “I hate not being able to be all couple-y with you. It sucks.”

Jonny frowned. “I know. But it'll be worth it in the end, yeah? You'll be out one day.”

Patrick leaned forward to nuzzle against Jonny's skin. “Yeah. Hopefully married by then. Living in a beach house would be nice. I'm thinking cherrywood floors, like the ones you've got. Carpets are a bitch to clean.”

He attached his lips to Jonny’s nipple, suckling softly, lax from his orgasm and the warmth Jonny was radiating. Jonny cradled the back of Patrick’s head, closing his eyes at the feeling of Patrick's tongue against the sensitive nub of his nipple, of having Patrick close to him.

“Sounds like a plan.”


	11. Chapter 11

Patrick hadn’t expected to nearly get clobbered by a dog the next time they were together.

The Hawks were playing the Sabres tomorrow night, so Patrick should really be preparing. But Jonny had invited him over to “play Mario Kart,” which was code for blowjobs and Chinese take out, and Pat just  _couldn't_ say no.

However, the moment he walked into the threshold, there was a big yellow lab leaping at him, tongue out and barking loudly.

“Bayla!” He heard Jonny shout while Patrick tried to fend the dog away.

The dog got to her feet and bounced around happily. Jonny was suddenly in view, and Patrick reached out in a blind panic and grabbed Jonny's shirt. Jonny gently pulled him away from the door and into his arms.

“Sorry, I forgot to mention,” Jonny said sheepishly, “I'm dog-sitting for the week. It was kind of a last-minute thing.”

Patrick exhaled, staring down at the panting lab by their feet. “Thanks for the warning.”

Jonny shrugged. “You've got one now.” He ruffled Patrick's hair, messing up the gel job. Patrick squawked at him, but Jonathan pointedly ignored him. “C'mon, I've got Mario Kart loaded on the console.”

Patrick's mood brightened, and a glint of competitiveness lit up in his eyes. “Hell yeah. I'm gonna kick your ass so hard, you'll feel it till next Tuesday.”

He took off down the foyer to the living room. Jonny watched him go, an amused expression on his face. Now that he thought about it, Patrick had a pretty good likeness of Princess Peach. Not that he was thinking about Patrick in a dress. Of course not.

Jonny shook off the thought and followed his boyfriend, Bayla trotting behind him obediently. He collapsed onto the couch next to Pat, swinging an arm over the back of the couch and curling it around Pat's shoulders.

Patrick tossed him a controller, leaned into Jonny's touch, and the game was on.

▪▪▪

“You’re happier than usual.” Duncs brought up that Thursday night when they were at the bar after a game.

At first, Patrick wasn’t aware that it was him Duncs was talking to, too busy smiling like a dork while replying to a photo of Bayla that Jon had sent him of her _laying_ _on the kitchen table._

**Jonny**

_*image attached* This is your fault. How do you even get her to jump on the TABLE_

 

**Patrick**

_aw come on!! who can say no 2 that face???_

_she seems very cozy._

 

**Jonny**

_Her BUTT is on the table, Patrick._

_I'm gonna have to soak it in bleach now. Fantastic._

Patrick snickered, pocketed his phone, and when he looked up, he found all of the guys were staring at him.

“Huh?” Pat asked dumbly.

Duncs slammed his beer bottle on the table and extended his arm out to Patrick. “See? This is what I’m talking about.”

“You’ve been a lot more- I dunno- smiley, lately.” Brinksy agreed, squinting at Patrick curiously.

Patrick went on the fence immediately, “What, is that a problem?”

Sharpy, who tagged along tonight, threw his arm around Pat’s shoulders. “Course not! Obviously, our little Peeks has found himself a lady. Isn’t that right?”

Patrick tried to dismiss the statement; he _knew_ that Sharpy was playing, but he blushed, batted Sharpy’s hand off his shoulder. Sharpy’s face contorted into shock, then absolute _glee._

“You do!” He exclaimed, and the guys started to murmur. “Why didn’t you tell us? When can we meet her, eh?”

“Never,” Patrick huffed, taking a hard pull of his beer, “I won’t let you corrupt them.”

“Aw, come on,” Saader bemoaned, “Please?”

“Yeah, I’m dying to know who was able to make our party-hard Peeksy start cutting back on shots.” Duncs snickered.

Patrick furrowed his eyebrows, before shrugging. “It’s complicated.”

Which, it wasn’t, not really, but kind of. Their relationship wasn’t complicated, per say. It's just that Jon’s -- you know -- a guy.

“Well, whatever magic she’s doing, she needs to keep doing it.” Seabs said into his beer bottle, “It’s bringing out some of your best hockey.”

“Maybe she’s your good luck charm.” Kunitz said, and then the topic of hockey superstitions came up and completely drowned out the thoughts of Kaner’s girl.

From next to him, Sharpy squinted at him. Patrick just sipped his beer nonchalantly.

▪▪▪

Sharpy was knocking on his apartment door at noon the next day.

“You’re dating a guy.” He said, and pushed past Patrick and into his foyer.

Patrick blinked, processed, and his heart plummeted. He closed the door and turned to face his friend. “What?”

“You’re not dating a girl,” Sharpy said, confidently, “You’re dating a dude.”

Patrick scoffed. “What makes you think that?”

Sharpy looked unimpressed. “The others might have been too drunk to notice, but I heard you using the word ‘them’ instead of ‘her.’ You’ve never done that before. And I was sitting next to you the _whole time._ I kinda noticed that you were grinning like a madman down at a text message under the contact name _Jonny.”_

Patrick felt himself pale.

“Why didn’t you say something?” Sharpy asked, softer this time. “Did you think we would freak out or something?”

Patrick scratched the back of his neck, nervous. “I mean, you can't blame me for worrying about it. If something happened, I'd be the first outed NHL player in the world. I could get traded, or fired.”

“Woah, hey,” Sharpy furrowed his eyebrows, “Stan's not going to trade you just because you're gay.”

“Bi,” Pat corrected, “I’m bi. I say that I'm gay a lot. At least, I do to myself. It's a lot less weird to stare at a guy's butt and be like ‘damn I'm so gay’ rather than ‘damn I'm so bi.’ But you didn't need to know that. Um-”

“Peeks.” Sharpy interrupted, gentle.

Patrick blushed bright red. “Sorry,” he mumbled, “Like, I know when we meet same-sex couples at conventions or signings or wherever, it's like a silent rule to keep your mouth shut about it. But I just don't know what everyone thinks about it. Some might be okay with it, some might not be. Some might be okay with others and not with me.”

“Why on earth would we not accept you?” Sharpy sputtered in disbelief. “Peeks, we love you. You're still our rookie no matter what letter you've got on your chest, no matter how old you are. We're not just gonna stop loving you because you have the ability to love more people.”

Patrick's nose tingled as he fought to keep back the tears. “My dad doesn’t accept me.”

“What?”

“My dad. He's not okay with it,” Patrick admitted, upset, “He didn't outright say it, but I know he doesn't. He told me it was against the Bible, cause you know, all that Irish Catholic shit. He'd always get really uncomfortable when I would mention it. So I just- stopped talking about it.”

Sharpy's lips parted in surprise. “Kaner…”

Patrick shrugged. “If my own dad can think of me that poorly, what could happen if I came out to the team?”

He didn't realize he was crying until Sharpy swiped away a few tears with his thumbs. “Oh Patrick,” he pulled Pat into a hug, tight, “I’m so sorry. But don't ever think that me or Seabs, Duncs or Crow, any of us would hate you for this. Nothing's gonna change that.”

Patrick sniffled and pulled away, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. “D-D'you wanna see him?”

He fished out his phone and opened his gallery. He had a special folder for just him and Jonny, and he showed that to Sharpy. Sharpy was grinning by the end of them.

“He looks like a great guy,” he told Pat earnestly, “I'm really glad you found someone to make you so happy.”

Patrick stared down at the picture on his phone. He and Jonny had gone to the aquarium, and Patrick had taken a selfie of them with a shark swimming right behind them in the tank. Jonny was looking at him, unamused, while Patrick was holding back a laugh.

 _Dead shark eyes,_ he thought fondly, _surprisingly hot._

“Yeah. Guess I did.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now Sharpy knows! 
> 
> I swear I'm trying to get a move on with this story guys, just bear with me.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patrick decides enough is enough.

“So, uh,” Patrick said on the first week of March while he was at Jonny's for dinner, “Sharpy knows.”

Jonny promptly slipped on the hardwood, and Patrick caught him by the arm before he face planted into the counter

“He does?” Jonny sputtered, eyes wide and somewhat panicked. “When did this happen? Are you okay? Why didn't you tell me?”

“A little bit after Valentine's Day,” Patrick shrugged, “He noticed your contact name, said I was smiling like an idiot or some shit.”

Jonny still looked worried, and it made Patrick's heart clench that Jonny was so concerned about him. “It's okay. He was cool with it. Said the others would be, too.”

“Do you believe him?”

“I don't know,” Patrick admitted, “Not really. Maybe a couple of guys will be okay with it, but- the majority probably won't. That's just the fact of life- of the NHL. Don't even get me started on the rest of the league.”

“Hey,” Jonny frowned, reached a hand out to hold Patrick's upper arm, “It’s all gonna be okay.”

But Patrick knows that no matter what, he's going to lose someone in the long run.

“It's just not fair.” He snapped, and the bridge of his nose burns as a warning of oncoming tears. “I want to be able to hold your fucking hand in public. Is that too much to ask?”

Jonny's heart dropped into his stomach. He busied himself with getting the chicken out of the oven, and put it on top of the stove to cool. “Get the mashed potatoes out of the microwave?” He asked, voice weak all of a sudden.

Patrick either didn't notice or didn't care. He did as Jonny asked and got the potatoes from the microwave, stirred them in the plastic bowl and put it in the middle of the table.

They ate in silence, an uncomfortable mixture of calmness and tense. Patrick's frown stayed on his face the whole time.

Jonny was putting the dishes in the dishwasher, when he made the hardest decision of his life and said, “Maybe- maybe we should break up.”

Something shattered, and Jonny spun around to see a broken drink glass on the floor, and Patrick looking like he's seen a ghost.

“What?”

Jonny looked down at his feet, ashamed. “There's so many problems with us dating, Pat. It's causing you too much stress. You can't even tell your best friends about us. God knows what the league would do.”

“No,” Patrick said, breathing becoming panicked and heavy, “No. Fuck the league.”

“But you said-”

“I know what I said! But I didn't mean-” Patrick ran his hand over his mouth, tears brimming in his eyes faster than before, “I don't want to break up.”

“What, you think I do?” Jonny huffed. “It’s killing me to do this. I don't _want_ to. But if it means that you don't have to hide from your team anymore, have your life back, then I will.”

“Fuck you.” Patrick seethed. “You don't make that decision for me! Acting like you know everything, like it won't give me a stroke to walk out without you. Fucking don't even care-”

 _“Stop it,”_ Jonny ordered, and Patrick shut his jaw shut with a snap, “I know it's hard. _I know._ Do you know how much I want to take you to some fancy restaurant, wrap my arm around you and show the world that _fuck yes, I'm dating him.”_

Patrick's jaw dropped.

“Do you have any idea how much I want to go out with you after wins, dance with you in the middle of the club and tell everyone in miniskirts and missing shirts that try to touch you that _sorry, but no, he's mine?_ It sucks, Patrick. But I'm not gonna stand here and watch you get upset because you have to choose between hockey and me.”

“You,” Patrick breathed, a hair away from breaking, “I'd choose you every time.”

“You say that now. But what about in a year? Close to another Cup and suddenly someone snaps a picture of us at a bar, or the team finds out, or Stan? What would you choose, then?”

And the worst part is, Patrick didn't know.

“I don't care,” he sobbed, tears falling fat and fast down his face, “You! Both! Jonny, you can't leave me. Please- please don't leave me. I love you.”

Jonny sucked in a sharp breath. He said it. He said the ‘L’ word.

Patrick loved him.

“I'm an asshole,” he said and tugged Patrick to his chest, holding him tight while he cried, “I love you, too, Pat, you hear that? I love you so much.”

“D-don't leave. You c-can’t leave me.” Patrick shook with his sobs, and when the tears started wetting his shirt, Jonny broke too.

“Never, baby, never. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry.”

Patrick threw his arms around Jonny's neck, kissing him hard and desperate. Jonny tightened his grip on Patrick's hip, putting the other on his waist and squeezing.

They had to stumble their way to the bedroom, bumping into things and running into walls. They fell into the bed with Patrick on top, and Patrick shoved his face into Jonny's neck.

Jonny held onto him as tight as possible, gasping for stuttering breaths. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I love you. I'm so sorry.”

Patrick sunk his teeth into Jonny's shoulder, aiming to make a hickey. He almost lost him. He almost lost Jonny.

He hadn't even thought about how hard it was on Jonny. Granted, Patrick's entire career was at stake here.

But it's gotta suck for Jonny to be constantly pushed away by his boyfriend. Having to sit in front of each other at restaurants instead of next to each other. Missing out on Hawks events, family skates. He remembered how sad Jonny had looked when he told Patrick that he couldn't go to the Christmas family skate, couldn't risk outing them.

Patrick can't even hold Jonny's hand in fear of someone seeing them.

He held onto Jonny tighter, dragging his lips over Jonny's shoulder and collarbone and neck. He sucked hickies into his skin wherever he could, dimly aware enough to remember that Jonny needed to be able to hide them for school.

Jonny was quick to do the same, tugging Patrick's shirt down to find skin to bite into. Patrick fell onto his side so they were more comfortable, pressed up against each other.

“Higher,” Patrick croaked, “Want them to see.”

Jonny moaned breathily and did as told, peppered kisses up Patrick's neck before sinking his teeth into the spot right below his ear, then the middle of his neck, down and down, to his collarbone.

Neither had let go of each other once, and that's how Jonny fell asleep, clutching Patrick desperately, body touching any part of Pat that he could.

Patrick watched him sleep, ran his hands through his short, soft hair. Jonny shifted in his sleep, leaned into the touch, and Patrick knew what he had to do.

▪▪▪

Morning came. Patrick woke to the sound of Jonny's alarm. It was Friday, which meant Jonny had work and Patrick had skate.

Jonny was curled around him, didn't even flinch at the alarm. For a brief, terrifying moment, Patrick couldn't tell if he was breathing.

But after about three hard shoves, Jonny pried his eyes open, batting Pat's hand away. “Whassat?”

Patrick exhaled hard, kissed him just as urgently. “Nothing, nothing. You gotta get ready for work.”

Jon groaned. “God, my head hurts.”

Patrick could relate. He nosed down Jonny's neck, pulled Jonny's shirt away to admire his handiwork. Jonny's collarbones and shoulders were littered in hickeys, purple and blue bruises scattered above his sternum.

“Hey,” he whispered, “We're still together, right?”

Jonny hesitated, so Patrick pressed, “I can't do this without you.”

“Do what?”

“Everything.”

Jonny kissed Patrick's forehead, lips lingering over his skin, “As long as you still want me.”

Patrick pushed upwards on his hands and locked their mouths together to prove his point, “I'll always want you.”

Jonny ruffled Patrick's hair. “Don’t gel it today? I like it when it's down.”

“Yeah?” Patrick smiled sheepishly.

Jonny looked at him soft. “Yeah.” He reached a hand up and brushed away a stray curl from his face, before tucking it behind Pat's ear.

Patrick blushed, chest filling with warmth. But the alarm went off again, interrupting their moment, and Jonny heaved himself out of bed.

Patrick followed suit, and for the first time since they'd been together, they showered together.

They washed one another, hands slipping down the planes of their bodies, tangling in each other's hair. They stood under the spray for a little while, just holding one another, not wanting to leave the safety of their little bubble.

But they had to, so they did. They got dressed, and Jonny made him a special peach banana smoothie with his fancy dairy-free milk (however that works) to take to the rink.

“I'll meet you back here after school gets out?” Patrick asked, standing in the doorway while Jonny grabbed his keys and his coat. “Four?”

“Sounds good.” Jonny agreed and slung his bag over his shoulder. “I'll see you at four.” He kissed Patrick goodbye, put a little more emotion into it, and pulled away. “I love you.”

Patrick smiled. “I love you too.”

Patrick shut the door once he was gone. The moment he heard the quiet _snick_ of the door locking, his hands started to shake at the realization about what he was about to do.

He was the second player to get to the rink. Stromer was the first, lounging in the locker room with his hockey pants on, unlaced skates, and chest pads on, lazily scrolling through his phone.

“Hey, Kaner.” He greeted, glancing up from his phone. He did a double take and smirked, wide, “Nice hickeys, man.”

“Thanks.” Patrick said shortly, turning to his stall to start undressing.

Players trickled in within the hour, until the entire room was buzzing with chatter and chirping. Patrick kept to himself, too wound up to interact with everyone.

His legs was bouncing by the time Colliton jogged in and shouted to hit the ice in ten minutes.

It was because he kept to himself that no one noticed the hickeys until Gus hollered, “Holy shit, Kaner, your neck!”

Everyone -- including Colliton -- turned to Patrick, and as much as he tried to square his shoulders, there was dread in his stomach. It rolled terribly as the guys started talking about his “mystery girl,” and that was it, that was his opening.

“Actually,” he said, “I got these from my boyfriend.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patrick comes out to the team.

“Um, what?”

Patrick felt ready to faint, knew his face was white and his body was trembling. But he stood firm. He and Jonny deserved better.

“My boyfriend gave them to me. They'll be gone by tomorrow night's game.”

The room was silent, not a sound except for the occasional piece of hardware falling, or the intakes and exhales of breath.

Duncs was the first to speak. “You have a boyfriend?”

Patrick nodded, swallowed with an audible _click._ “Yeah.”

“Since when?” Crow asked, eyes wide.

“Uh, November. November sixth.” Patrick scratched at a phantom itch on his shoulder.

The room went silent as the team took in the bomb drop. Patrick fiddled with his practice jersey, trying (and failing) to steady his breathing.

“Well, now we know why you wouldn't let us meet him.” Seabs snorted, the first light comment since Patrick opened his mouth, and a string snapped inside his chest, letting out all the tension. Seabs and Sharpy were on his side. He had two supporters.

Patrick smiled weakly, and he heard someone ask, “What's his name?”

“Jonathan,” Patrick said proudly, “His name is Jonathan.”

He looked around the room to catalogue everyone's reactions. Crow was still standing in his goalie pads in shock, and Patrick didn't know if that was good or bad.

But Seabs was smiling at him, and Duncs looked happy, like he was gearing up to rib him about everything. Brinksy actually looked _excited,_ and Stromer didn't look the least bit surprised.

Saader watched him warily, like he wasn't sure if Patrick was being serious. He didn't want to think about what that meant.

A lot of the team seemed okay, but Patrick saw the ones that averted their eyes, turned to their bags to finish dressing. He saw them whispering to one another, as if Patrick's love life was gossip.

He expected it, but he didn't expect so many. It socked him hard in the gut that guys he's played with for years suddenly can't look at him.

Colliton cleared his throat, “Okay, Kaner. Thank you for sharing, but we need to get a move on. Everyone on the ice!”

The gears in the atmosphere started moving again, and the team gathered their things and made their way to the ice. Some of the guys avoided him, as if they were going to catch the _gay,_ and it stung. It stung bad.

But Colliton grabbed him by the shoulder before left the tunnel, and told him, “I'm proud of you.”

Patrick wished that Q was here. He would have liked Q to know, been a part of it all. But Colliton's support meant a lot, too, and Patrick wanted as much acceptance as he could get.

“Thanks, Coach.” He said, and stepped out onto the ice.

▪▪▪

When Jonny got home, Patrick was in a ball on the couch, burritoed in blankets while he watched highlights of the Sharks, whom they were playing tomorrow.

“H-”

“I told the team.”

Jonny's things clattered loudly to the floor. “You did what?”

“I told the team,” he repeated, “about us. That I have a boyfriend.”

“That's why you wanted them to see the hickeys.” Jonny's face dawned with realization. “Shit, are you okay? How did it go?” He sat on the couch next to Patrick, knees tucked up, and pulled Patrick into his arms.

Patrick burrowed his face into Jonny's shoulder. “It was better than I expected, I guess. We got Duncs and Seabs with us. Brinksy too, I think. I couldn't tell with some of them.”

“And the others?”

“You know the answer to that.” Pat shrugged. “I told you from the get-go, most of them won't be okay with it.”

“It's bullshit.” Jonny huffed. “I'm so sorry.”

Patrick sniffed. “It's- not ideal. It hurts, but, most of the guys I'm closest to are fine with it.”

“Yeah,” Jonny muttered, “Most.”

“Hey.” Patrick lifted his head, saw the pain in his boyfriend's eyes. He cupped Jonny's cheek and pecked his lips. “I'm gonna be okay.”

Jonny remained silent, and that didn't settle with Patrick. He pushed at Jonny's chest until he was lying back, sprawled out on the length of the couch. Patrick put his back against Jonny's chest, in between his legs, and draped the blanket over them.

Jonny put a hand on the jut of Patrick's hip, the other on the bottom of his abdomen, curled himself into him.

“I have a meeting with Stan and PR tomorrow.” Patrick told him.

Jonny grimaced. “You know to call me if you need me. I can leave for a family emergency.”

“I think I'll be okay,” Patrick reassured, “but I'll remember that.”

 _Family,_ Patrick thought, smiling to himself, _I'm family._


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patrick takes Jonny out to a family skate, and take the next step in their relationship.

Jonny came home from work and found Patrick curled up in his bed, sniffling.

“I take it Stan and PR didn't take it well.” Jonny frowned and slipped into bed next to him.

Patrick latched onto Jonny and burrowed his face into his neck. Jonny held him tight, didn't let go.

▪▪▪

“So Kaner,” Crow asked one day as they were coming off the ice after practice, “When are we gonna meet your man?”

Patrick noticed half of the room stop, but he did his best to ignore it.

“Uh,” he said, “I don't know.”

“Well we've got to meet him.” Duncs raised an eyebrow. “Who else is going to tell him all the embarrassing stories about you? He's gotta be well informed.”

Patrick threw a glove at his head. Duncs scittered away, cackling.

“C'mon, Kaner.” Seabs nudged his side. “Does he want to meet us?”

Patrick scratched the back of his neck. “Well, yes but, he's nervous. I'm nervous.”

“Considering how happy he makes you,” Krugs scoffed, “I say there's nothing for either of you to worry about.”

The guys looked at him eagerly, and Patrick gave in.

▪▪▪

“You _what?”_

Jonny shoves his head around the corner. Patrick smiled sheepishly, “I invited us to the fundraiser family skate so the team could meet you?”

Jonny held his face in his hands. “Oh my God.”

“It's not that bad-”

Jonny frowned disapprovingly. “Are we even ready for that?”

“I am.” Patrick defended, “I'm fucking sick of pretending, Jonny. I want them to meet you. I want to hold your hand and skate with you surrounded by my team. I want us to be happy.”

Jonny ran his hands through his hair, trying to calm his heart. Half of Patrick's team couldn't stand the idea of Jonny. But Patrick deserved to be happy.

“Okay,” he sighed, defeated, “If you're sure. I'd love to go.”

Patrick beamed at him. “Yeah? Awesome. Okay, let me go call Rocky and let him know. He's gonna have to tell PR not to post any videos of us being all couple-y, but that shouldn't be much of a problem. Shit, what are we going to wear-”

“Patrick,” Jonny interrupted, grabbing Pat's upper arms, “You're panicking.”

Patrick took a shaky breath. “I want this to go well. I really want them to like you.”

“Me too.” Jonny smiled weakly. “And hey, we're in this together; no matter what.”

Patrick locked their pinkies together. “Always.”

▪▪▪

“Shit.” Patrick gasped.

Jonny whipped around to face him. “What? Do I look okay? I thought this was fine-"

“I've never seen you in khakis,” Patrick said, then whispered, “Your ass looks huge.”

Jonny blinked, then blushed. “You think?”

“Fuck yes,” Patrick gaped at him, walking over and grabbing his ass in large handfuls, “I mean, it's always been big, but damn. The khakis really bring it out.”

Jonny stared at himself in the mirror, and Patrick’s mouth dropped open. “You're wearing it on purpose.”

“I want to make sure I look good!” Jonny defended, “I don't want to embarrass you.”

“You're not gonna embarrass me,” Patrick scoffed, “If anything, the guys are gonna embarrass me. _You_ are going to make me look like I won the fuckin' lottery.”

Jonny's cheeks heated up, and a blush moved down to his neck.

“You look good in joggers.” Jonny commented, running his fingers along the waistband, and Patrick replied without hesitation, “Thanks, I'm freeballing it.”

Jonny choked on his spit. “You- you're unbelievable.”

Patrick shrugged and grabbed a light jacket. “C'mon, let's get going.”

Patrick got them through security, and the moment they were indoors, Patrick reached down and laced their fingers together. Jonny beamed at him, and Patrick smiled back, “I'm gonna do this right.”

Jonny's chest swelled with joy. He reached his free hand over and held onto Patrick's arm, effectively clinging to his boyfriend.

“Don't believe anything they say,” Patrick warned him, “They're all liars. And if someone says anything rude to you, let me know. I'll handle it.”

Jonny snorts. “I hope your don't mean by fighting, because I love you, but you can't fight to save your life.”

Patrick squawked indignantly.

They got to the door to the locker room, and Patrick squeezed their hands. “This is it.” Jonny held his breath, and Patrick pushed the door open.

There were only three families in the locker room, which was a bit of a relief: Crow, Brinksy, and Stromer.

“Kaner!” Crow cheered. “And...Jonathan? Is this Jonathan?”

Patrick nodded. “Yeah.”

Stromer dropped his skate. “Holy shit, you're real.”

Brinksy looked absolutely gleeful, ready to burst from happiness. “Oh my God. Your Jonathan? Oh my God.”

Jonny waved shyly. “Hi. Um, you're DeBrincat, right? Pat's told me a lot about you.”

Brinksy _beamed._

“Nice to meet you,” Crow stuck a hand out, “I'm Corey Crawford.”

Jonathan shook it with his free hand. “You too.”

Crow's girlfriend steps forward, squirming toddler in her arms. “I'm Kristy. I'm glad to finally meet you.”

“Pleasure.” Jonny smiled at her, and oh yeah, everyone in the room had already been won over.

Patrick dropped his duffel in front of his stall, then paused. “Wait. I need you to do something. It's important.”

Jonny quirked an eyebrow. Patrick put his hands on Jonny's hips, then guided him to sit down in Pat's stall. “Okay, don't move.”

Jonny sighed, seemingly put out, when Patrick took out his phone. But there was a smile quivering on his lips, and Patrick saw right through him.

“Smile.” Patrick teased. Jonny did as he was told, and Pat snapped the picture.

“Hey,” Crow said, coming over to them, “Want me to take one of both of you?”

Patrick grinned. “Really?”

Jonny snorted at his excitement, but Patrick ignored him. He gave the phone to Crow, then yanked Jonny to his feet.

“Pat-”

“Shh,” he interrupted, maneuvering Jonny in front of him, with their sides to the camera, “Let me be artistic.”

He put his hands on Jonny's upper arms. He told Crow, “Please don't laugh at me,” then kissed Jonny in front of his stall.

There was a camera shutter, and Patrick smiled against Jonny's lips, then pinched his hip. Jonny yelped and bit down meanly onto Patrick's bottom lip. He pulled back and whacked Pat on the arm, “Asshole.”

The guys were laughing at them. Crow handed Patrick his phone back and patted him on the shoulder. “See you on the ice. Nice meeting you, Jonny!”

“You too!” Jonny called back as Crow and Kristy disappeared down the hall.

Stromer had to drag Alex out of the room, hollering, “Please don't have sex in the locker room!”

Patrick frowned, “Dammit.”

Jonny squawked.

▪▪▪

Once they had their skates laced up, they headed down the tunnel to the ice.

Patrick noticed Jonny getting more and more panic-stricken as they neared people. Patrick stopped them in the middle of the tunnel and draped an arm around Jonny's shoulders. It was a little awkward because of the height difference, but neither paid much attention to it.

“Hey,” he murmured, pressing his lips to Jonny's temple, “It's gonna be okay.”

“I haven't skated in a while.”

“Just gives you another reason to hold onto me.”

Jonny looked Patrick in the eyes. “I'm scared.”

Patrick tugged Jonny's arm, and when he bent over, sealed their lips together briefly. “Me too.”

Jonny nodded, straightened, and put on his game face -- the same face Patrick remembered seeing when Jonny went to work knowing that there was going to be a pep rally during his terror-of-a-sixth-period class.

Patrick was in love.

The moment they stepped into the public, Sharpy shouted from God-knows-where, “Kaner!”, and every head in the vicinity turned to them.

Fantastic.

“You're a horrible person.” Patrick glared when Sharpy bounded over. Abby followed, with two bouncing girls in tow.

“Gotta be one to see one.”Sharpy smirked, like he was _cool,_ then turned his award-winning smile to Jonny. “You must be Jonathan. Kaner doesn't shut up about you.”

Jonny's hand is trembling when he shakes Sharpy's. If Sharpy noticed, he didn't comment.

“All good things, I hope.” Jonny chuckled nervously. “You never know with this one.”

“Very good things.” Sharpy assured. “Peeks is gone for you.”

Patrick tried to defend himself, but Jonny flapped a hand at him to shut him up. “So I hear you're the one to go to for blackmail on Pat. Got any good stories?”

Sharpy visibly brightened. “Do I! I like this one, Peekaboo.”

“Don't call me that.”

 _“Don't call me that.”_ Sharpy mocked like the child he was.

They argued while Jonny and Abby got acquainted. At some point, some of the other players and families crowded around to meet Jonny. Jonny didn't let go of Pat's hand the entire time.

“Alright,” Patrick eventually wiggled in between the crowd and his boyfriend, “Jonny and I are going to skate. _Good_ bye.”

He pulled Jonny out of the throng of people. Jonny stumbled behind, awkwardly waving goodbye.

“They like you,” Patrick told him, stepping out onto the ice, “Well, the non-homophobic ones do.”

They haven't been blind to the people staying clear of them, doing laps around the ice and whispering to one another. They've been trying to ignore it.

Patrick held his hands out towards Jonny. Jonny stared at him nervously. “They won't be posting pictures of us, right? They're not going to out you?”

“I've got it covered,” Patrick assured him, “Now come here.” He made grabby hands at his boyfriend, who complied easily.

Jonny wobbled a little when he first stepped onto the ice. “Shit,” he cursed, trying to find his balance, “It's been a while.”

“Any practice is better than no practice.” Patrick shrugged. He moved to Jonny's side and squeezed his hand. They started moving together, Patrick guiding him along the way. Jonny found his balance two laps in.

“If you turn out to be a better skater than me,” Patrick glared, “I'm leaving you with the WAGs.”

Jonny gasped horrifically. “You wouldn't dare.”

They broke into laughter, and Jonny broke apart their hands to circle around Pat teasingly. “Bet I'm faster.”

Patrick squinted challengingly. “Gonna put your money where your mouth is?”

Jonny skated into his space. “I'll put _something_ where my mouth is.”

Patrick felt a zing shoot down his spine. “You're on. Ready, se-”

Jonny took off, and Patrick scrambled after him. “Cheater!”

Patrick could hear Sharpy and some of the other guys laughing at them, but he ignored them in favor of trying to body slam Jonny into the boards.

▪▪▪

Jonny won.

When the fundraiser was over and most of the people had left, Patrick took Jonny into the locker room to grab their things.

“It was wonderful to meet you.” Dayna told them goodbye, gathering up her kids, “You and Patrick should come over one day for dinner.”

Jonny smiled at her. “That would be great.”

“Good! Let me know what day works for you two.”

Sharpy clapped his hand on Patrick's back and shook Jonny's hand. “Don't be a stranger. When are you coming to a game? I'm sure Peeks would love to see you in his jersey.”

Patrick goes red, and Sharpy smirked. “See?”

“I- uh, I'm not sure.” Jonny admitted, “Our relationship has been pretty DL since the beginning. Even attending games seemed risky.”

“I'm sorry it's been like that,” Sharpy frowned. “But you know the organization is going to protect you guys.”

Patrick shrugged. “Stan and PR weren't very pleased.”

“They're idiots.” Sharpy said deadpan. “Rocky doesn't give a flying fuck who you're attracted to as long as you keep producing.”

“Seems like he's been producing a lot more since Jonny came around,” Duncs hollered from across the locker room, “Showing off, eh?”

Patrick tossed an arm around Jonny's waist. “Gotta make myself look good.”

Jonny snorted. “Have to. God knows your hair isn't doing it.”

The locker room erupted into laughter. Crow high-fived Jonny proudly. “I like him.”

Jonny beamed at the praise.

“Alright, we're leaving before you losers corrupt my boyfriend.” Patrick huffed, but he's smiling.

Sharpy squeezed his shoulder. “You did good, bud.” He leaned in to whisper, “Nice butt, too.”

Patrick smacked him repeatedly, vicious. “I'm telling Abby on you!”

Sharpy's eyes go wide. “No, wait!”

Jonny inevitably came to the rescue and dragged Patrick out of the locker room, shouting goodbye and, “I'll be at the next game!”

By the time they got to the car, Patrick was ready to go to sleep. “God, that was exhausting.” He pushed Jonny up against the car.

Jonny chuckled, pressed his face to Pat's temple. “Don't fall asleep on me,” he nipped at Patrick's ear, “I believe you owe me a winning blowjob.”

Patrick was tired, but he'd be happy stay up for that. “Your place or mine?”

“Mm. I don't care. It'd be so much easier if we lived together.”

It was said as an afterthought, but Patrick's chest seized at the thought. “Yeah?” He said nervously. “Then why don't we?”

Jonny pulled away a little. “Seriously?”

Pat shrugged. “We have keys to each other's places. It'll be easier living together, like you said. Plus…” Patrick grazed his lips over Jonny's ear, “lazy morning sex.”

Jonny grinned and kissed him happily, biting his bottom lip. “Where would we live?”

“Your house.” Patrick said quickly. “It's bigger. Homeier than my apartment.”

“You've thought about this, then?”

Patrick blushed. “Yeah.”

Jonny couldn't help but kiss him again. “Okay. We'll start moving you tomorrow.”

Patrick blew Jonny for an hour that night, keeping him desperate and on edge in his bed -- _their_ bed, in _their_ home.

Patrick would never get tired of that word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Jonny in khakis *__*
> 
> 2\. They're moving in together!!


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patrick goes on a week-long road trip, and Jonny gets stuck at home, alone.

The day after Patrick completely moved in, he left on a week-long road trip.

It sucked, but Jonny knew that’s how it would be all the time. It was Pat’s job, and he knew that. He just _missed him,_ so much.

He took to his work to distract him.

He was currently in the middle of answering a question, about why French grammar was so different than English grammar.

One boy in the back, Caden, threw his hands up, exasperated. “How does that even make _sense?”_

Jonathan chuckled again. “That’s just how French is, bud. Take the Stanley Cup for example. Anyone watch hockey?”

A couple of kids raised their hands. “Okay, good. The Stanley Cup is the big trophy the winning team gets at the end of the playoffs. To English speakers, we say ‘Stanley Cup,’ but in French, we say ‘Cup Stanley,’ because we've switched up the adjectives.”

Danni Almondez shut her binder.

He chuckled at her. “I promise you, learning these little rules will help reading French texts be a lot easier in context.”

“If you say so.” Marcus said grimly.

“So for the rest of class, I want you to go to page thirty four in your textbooks and work on that page through forty. There’s only three questions on each page. The rest is just directions and explanations. Answer the questions in French. Try to write in complete sentences. What you don’t finish is for homework, so you better hop to it.”

The students simultaneously groaned, but got to work.

He spent the rest of his class period walking around, helping students and explaining what they didn’t understand, even teaching some a little extra when they asked a complicated question. It made him forget that his boyfriend was currently halfway across the country, but just for a moment.

On Friday, Jonathan was up until one in the morning grading papers and making lesson plans. He'd given his French II class an essay to write in French about French culture, to see what they remembered from the past year.

He watched the game on his tv, curled up against the arm of the couch with a stack of papers. His legs and feet were on the couch at his side, pulled up a little to use his knees as a table to write on. He laughed quietly when he heard the broadcasters shouting when Patrick scored in the second.

“Atta boy, Pat.” He whispered, lips tugged up in a smile.

But, that meant that on Saturday morning, he was practically dead in the sheets. He was delusional with sleep when he stirred in the early morning, barely, but enough to hear the bedroom door scuffle against the carpet. There was a rustle, and then a big, warm hand on his back.

“Shh,” the person whispered, tugging the duvet up higher, around his shoulders to curl around him, “It’s alright. I’m right here.”

Jonny was back to sleep in seconds.

When he woke later, around ten, there was a duffel bag on the floor, overflowing with dirty laundry and the smell of bacon coming from the kitchen. Jonathan grinned to himself and hurried out of bed, slamming his hand on the dresser.

He cursed, but shook off the pain. He rushed down the stairs and into the kitchen, where he found Patrick whistling away, cooking bacon on his stove. He was shirtless, and Jon has the right to say Patrick’s torso is _thick,_ with his cross necklace and dumb chains hanging down over his breastbone.

Patrick turned to him, and he looked tired, but he smiled, bright and happy to see Jon, and Jonny was stalking forward and pulling Pat close because he _missed_ this- missed him.

“I’m so glad you’re home.” Jonathan breathed into his hair.

Patrick laughed, breathlessly, arms wrapped tightly around Jonathan’s middle. “Me too.”

▪▪▪

It was a lazy day, now that Pat was home. Jonny was more than happy to push aside his work and snuggle up with Patrick in bed for a movie marathon on Netflix.

Jonny was a little surprised that Patrick didn't want either of them to leave the bed at all that day, but Jonny figured he could let it slide just this once.

Patrick pressed his lips against Jonny's neck, soft and delicate. Jonny closed his eyes and melted into the feeling. Patrick started trailing them up his neck, kissing at his jaw. His hand slid down Jonny's thigh, squeezed, then made its way closer to his crotch.

Jonny's breath hit hot against Pat's ear. He reached down to slide a hand across Pat's waist, the other reaching down to grab his ass.

“Wanna fuck you.” Pat moaned, kissing Jonny hard on the mouth. “Let me fuck you.”

Jonny groaned and subconsciously spread his legs a little wider. “Shit.”

“Yeah?”

“Stop sounding so smug.” Jonny glared, before tugging Patrick into his lap. Patrick moved around until he was bracketing Jonny's legs with his own.

“I'm about to put my dick in your ass,” Patrick squeezed his asscheeks as if to prove his point, “I'm allowed to be smug.”

Patrick shuffled around in the bedside drawer to find lube and a condom -- just in case. Retrieving the supplies, he dropped them by Jonny's head to start stripping.

When both of them were naked, Patrick tugged the comforter over them and popped open the bottle of lube. Jonny shuddered at the sound.

“Ever done this before?”

Jonny squirmed as Patrick slicked up his fingers, “A few times.”

“Yeah?” Pat asked, “Don't worry. You'll forget all about them when I'm done.” He slid in his middle finger down to the last knuckle, and Jonny's breath hitched.

“Cocky, eh?”

Patrick grinned, “Always.”

He worked Jonny loose on his middle finger, then started opening him up when he added his index. Jonny wiggled around beneath him, expectant as always, and it made Patrick more determined to make Jonny's night.

He crooked his fingers in a couple places, searching, and when Jonny jolted and instinctively closed his thighs around Pat's hand, he knew he'd hit the jackpot.

“Shh, easy baby.” Patrick cooed, using his free hand to pry apart Jonny's legs.

Patrick added a third finger, ring this time. Jonny was wiggling for a different reason now, trying to fuck himself down on Pat's fingers. Patrick fanned them out, sideways and up and down, trying to get him ready.

When Jonny starts kicking him, agitated that he's not being fucked yet, Patrick withdraws his fingers. He dries off his hands on the sheets and rolls on the condom. He drizzles more lube onto his dick, jacks himself in a loose grip.

“Ready?”

“Shut up and fuck me.”

And how could Patrick say no to that?

He lined himself up and pushed in. The head of his dick popped inside and was immediately swallowed by Jonny's hole. Jonny tightened instinctively, squeezed at Pat's ass until his nails left marks. Patrick moaned, quiet and shaky, dropped his head at the feeling.

“Shit.” Jonny breathed, then tugged at his cheeks. “Keep going.”

Patrick does as he's told and pushed in until he's halfway. Jonny grunted, said, “Wait,” and clenched his eyes shut.

Patrick hated himself a little, because he felt about three seconds from coming apart. Jonny's so hot around him, so tight. It's been so long since he's fucked a guy, he almost forgot what it was like.

Jonny gave him the go ahead, so Patrick took his chance and slid in all the way. Jonny gasped from beneath him.

“Fucking shit, Jonny,” Patrick panted, “Oh my god.”

“Go, c'mon, move.” Jon begged, so Patrick does. He started slow dispite his need to go fast, moved his hips in short, stabbing little thrusts to get Jonny used to the stretch.

When the creases between Jonny's eyes disappeared, he picked up the pace, going from slow and cautious to fast and hard. He found Jon's prostate quickly, if his increase in volume meant anything.

“Oh shit, oh shit, ooh shit.” Jonny gasped, then cried out when Patrick jabbed his prostate.

Patrick pulled his legs around his waist, then dropped his weight down to press his chest against Jonny's. “So good. Feel so good, baby.”

Jonathan wrapped his arms around Pat's torso and pulled him in for a kiss. He mouthed at Pat's shoulder, peppered kisses and hickeys up and down his neck.

“Not gonna last,” Pat gasped, “Mother _fuck,_ Jon.”

Jonny panted open mouth at the ceiling. He reached down to grab his dick, but Patrick batted it away and took hold of it himself.

He jerked him off in tight, fast pulls, leaving no room for Jonathan to hide in. Jonny groaned, scratching his nails down Patrick's back without mercy. He came hard between them, but silently, gasping as his body jolted beneath Patrick's fingertips.

His orgasm sent Patrick over the edge. He groaned and shot into the condom, sinking his teeth into Jonny's shoulder as he came down.

“Oh God.” Whispers Jonny.

Patrick pulls out slowly, kisses Jonny's cheeks in apology at the pain. He ties the condom and throws it in the direction of the trash can. Jonny turned him and claimed his spot as the big spoon before Patrick could try to take it.

Patrick pouted for all of three seconds. Jonny pressed his face against the back of Pat's sweaty neck. “I hate road trips.”

“Yeah,” Pat agreed, “but it makes for awesome reunion sex.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short little filler of Pat and Jonny after the Hawks miss the playoffs.

For Patrick, one of the worst feelings in the world was missing the playoffs. Other things include getting the Cup snatched from under him, upsetting his mother, and stubbing his toe against the corner of the kitchen table.

Now he can add not fulfilling promises to the list.

It’s only been five months, but Patrick was hoping deep in his gut that they make it. And yeah, he honestly didn’t figure they’d make it far in the playoffs what with the way they’ve been playing, but at least they had a  _ chance.  _

Now, Patrick has to wait a whole year to try to get the Cup for Jonny and kiss him stupid on the ice.

Patrick got home the day after the final game of the season. It was a beautiful, bright day outside, and it only made Patrick more agitated. He dropped his bags by the door, toed off his shoes, and sulked his way into the living room.

Jonny was there, waiting for him in the doorway. He was in nothing but his pajamas — it’s barely eleven, and Jon’s a late snoozer so he probably only just rolled out of bed an hour ago. 

“Hey.” He greeted, voice soft and patient. Patrick felt his eyes water just setting eyes on him, “Hey.”

He fell into Jonny’s arms, stuffing his face in his neck to seek comfort. Jonny was happy to give it to him — walked them to the couch and curled up on it, holding onto him and squeezing tight. Patrick didn’t cry, but he came close.

▪▪▪

Beard burn, as it turns out, is actually very comforting.

Jonny took Patrick upstairs that night and ate him out until he was screaming. He’d been growing out his beard a little bit — fluffier than stubble but calmer than an actual beard, because Patrick is thoroughly unconvinced that Jon can grow an actual beard — and it left the inside of his thighs and the bottom of his cheeks sore and raw.

“Your skin’s all pink.” Jonny told him the next morning, once he’d spread Pat’s legs to see his handiwork. “You look so pretty.”

Patrick kicked him a little, because he’s a thirty year old hockey player; he’s not  _ pretty.  _ He’s damn gorgeous. He told him as much, and Jonny just laughed, “I see. My bad.”

Patrick kicked him again, “Love me.”

Jonny leaned down and pressed their lips together, something needy and sensual. “I do.”

“Good,” Patrick smiled, “Now go make me breakfast.”

While Jonny’s gone, Pat carefully rubs his thighs against each other to feel the little nips of pain from the burn. It grounds something deep inside him, enough to relax into the mattress and let his boyfriend dote on him. It’s settling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys it’s been a while I’m sorry oof. I’ve hit a writers block, so if you guys wanna see anything specific, or little scenes or something in this book, let me know! I’ll be happy to write them :)


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patrick thinks he’s going home to Buffalo. He’s wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to @cei5014 for the idea!

Patrick planned on going to Buffalo for two weeks after the season ended (of course, Jonny would be going with him), then go with Jonny to Winnipeg to meet his family and celebrate his thirty-first birthday.

However, when Jonny called Patrick in a mild panic while Pat’s grocery shopping, he had to change those plans.

He was in the middle of deciding between wavy barbecue chips or Doritos, when his phone buzzed and Jonny’s ringtone played muffled through his shorts pocket. He dropped both of the bags in the cart and connected the call, greeting his boyfriend with a, “Hey, babe.”

_ “Don’t freak out,”  _ is the first thing that Jonny said, which of course made him start worrying,  _ “I’m okay.” _

“What did you do?”

_ “Uh,” _ Jonny sounded sheepish,  _ “I got into an accident.” _

Patrick’s eyes went wide, “You  _ what?”  _ It drew some eyes, but he ignored them.

_ “It’s not that bad! Just a little bit over a minor fender bender. I hit my head on the steering wheel so they brought me in.” _

“Oh my god,” said Patrick, “Oh my god.” And then, fleeing the store, “Wha- don't have your phone by your face if you’ve got a concussion! Why didn’t the hospital call me? What, is a ‘minor fender bender’ suddenly not important enough to call-”

_ “Pat, chill.”  _ Jonny snorted,  _ “I wanted to call you myself because I knew if they did, you’d like, have an aneurism. And the nurse is holding my phone. It’s on speaker.” _

Patrick slammed his car door shut and started the engine with shaking hands. “You’re not lying to me, right? There’s nothing worse?”

_ “It’s only a minor concussion. I’ll tell you more when you get here, the nurse is giving my phone death eyes.” _

Patrick was backing out of the parking spot when Jonny added,  _ “Hey, Pat?” _

“Yeah?”

_ “I’m okay, which means there’s no need to rush, which means you can pick me up a sandwich from Panera Bread before you come storming in here, okay?” _

Patrick kind of hated him for that, but he knew that Jonny was right in the long run. “Fine.”

Thirty minutes and one panic attack later, Patrick was scrambling after a nurse, clutching desperately to the Panera Bread to-go bag while he followed the nurse to Jonny’s room.

When he opened the door, Jonny was lying in the bed, covers spewn about and hair a fluffy mess, while he watched something on the television.

It’s a Game of Thrones rerun episode. The volume is low and the subtitles are on, and Jonny pouted at Patrick the moment he saw him, “They won’t let me turn it up any louder.”

“Good,” Patrick breathed and shut the door, “You're an idiot.”

“It was the other guy’s fault.” Jonny whined, then held his hands out urgently. “Now give me my sandwich.”

Patrick glared. “You’re lucky I love you.” He sat down in the chair next to the bed and pulled out the contents. Jonny took his sandwich happily, “They said I could go home tomorrow.”

Patrick nodded. That was good news. Seeing Jonny talking normally, sitting up and about made his chest loosen, the ball of anxiety behind his ribs slowly disappearing. “That’s good. Did you call into work?”

“Yeah,” he winced then, “I forgot about asking for tomorrow off.”

“Just call on speaker phone.”

“The doctor said I’m not allowed to have anymore screen time. That includes speaker calls.”

Patrick’s eyes widened, and he grabbed the remote before Jonny could react, “That means no tv, too, fucker!”

Jonny winched again, so Patrick apologized and lowered his voice. “Don’t give me a heart attack, here, Jon.” He shut off the television. “I’m sure you can call tomorrow morning.”

Jonny groaned, “That means I have to call before seven thirty.” He glanced over to Patrick. “Can you call?”

“What? I can’t call in for you,” Pat frowned, “Aren’t there, like, rules?”

Jonny’s cheeks went pink in the dim room, curtains drawn as to not aggravate his concussion. “You’re on my emergency contacts list on my paperwork. Legally, you can call in for me.”

Pat’s chest clenched at the statement. “Really?”

Jonny reached out for Pat’s hand and squeezed it. “Really really.”

Jonny took a nap a little while later, so Patrick took the time to call the school. 

_ “Lincoln Park High School.”  _ A cheery voice answered.

“Hi,” Pat said awkwardly, “I need to call in for my- uh, partner. He’s a teacher?”

_ “What’s the name?” _

“Jonathan Toews.”

There was faint typing coming from the line, then,  _ “May I get your name, sir?” _

Patrick’s heart started beating faster, “Patrick Kane.

He waited for a surprised gasp, some kind of indication that she knew him, but he received nothing but,  _ “What’s the reason for absence?” _

“Sick day,” he answered, nervous, “He’ll only be out tomorrow.”

_ “Alright, thank you for informing us. Have a nice day.” _

“You too.” He replied dumbly, and listened to the dial tone after she hung up. He turned off his phone and went back inside, feeling a little lighter than before.

He called in for Jonny. He was family.

▪▪▪

They discharged Jonny the next morning. Patrick had to go home after visiting hours, but came back bright and early and tried not to be weird while he watched Jonny sleep.

Jonny always had lines on his forehead, crinkles and creases from working too hard or over thinking. It didn’t take much for Patrick to be able to get those lines to go away, but Pat was mesmerized by the soft features of Jonny’s face in its natural state while he slept.

He worked too hard, really. 

He ran his hands through Jonny’s soft hair, musing it up. He’d been growing it out throughout the end of March and beginning of April, a little tip of the hat to contribute to the “playoff” look while the Hawks were trying to clinch. Jonny still hasn’t shaved, not cut his hair, even though they didn’t make it.

Jonny stirred under Pat’s hand, blinked his eyes open to settle on his boyfriend. He smiled, lips plush and soft, when he laid eyes on Patrick, “Hi.”

“Hi.” Patrick smiled back, “Ready to go home.”

Jonny hummed, eyes fluttering shut when Pat started scratching his nails across his scalp, “More than ready.”

The doctor discharged him an hour later. Jonny had just buttoned his pants when a nurse slipped inside the room to inform them that there was a group of photographers at the front entrance.

“Photographers?” Jonny asked.

“Probably paps,” Pat sighed, “Someone must have leaked that I was here.” 

“We can play it off as friends.” Jonny suggested before Patrick could even think of a story, and he sighed in relief, “I really don’t deserve you.”

He’d brought his specially-made concussion sunglasses from the house for Jonny to wear. Once they were set — Pat had on a baseball cap just in case — they headed to the elevator and through the lobby.

“Keep close,” he told Jonny, “I’m gonna hold your shoulder to guide you.”

They opened the doors, and immediately, people started talking loudly and snapping pictures. Jonny flinched and ducked his head towards to Patrick to shield his eyes from the flashes.

Pat’s grip was hard and intent on his shoulder, squeezing tight as he pushed them through the small crowd of reporters. Normally, he’d stop to sign some autographs, or take pictures, but Jonny was hurt and recovering and he wasn’t taking chances.

They were able to get to the car and get the hell out of there without any injury. “Yeesh,” Jonny scoffed, fixing his hair, “I hate that you have to deal with that all the time.”

Pat shrugged, “You get used to it. It’s not that bad. There’s usually more reporters if there’s been an open incident involving me or something.”

Jonny knew exactly what he was talking about.

“Well hopefully they won’t follow us home. I’d like to get a muffin from the cupboard without someone standing outside the window.” He joked.

“Ugh,” Patrick grimaced, a teasing smile on his face, “Your glucose-free, flavor-free, delicious-less blueberry muffins?”

“Hey! They’re not that bad.”

Patrick got them home with ease. The moment Jonny got inside, Patrick pushed him into the couch and threw a blanket at him. “Alright bitch. Get ready to be doted on.”

Jonny snorted so hard, he inhaled his tongue.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pat And Jonny visit their families — together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to @ Creampuffie for the prompt! I kinda tweaked it a lil but I hope it lives up to your expectations :)
> 
> “Oh fuck, I can tell he’s been crying” into “it looks like you’ve been crying”

Patrick finally took Jonny to Buffalo once he’d recovered from the accident. He’d been a little worried — the whole Irish Catholic thing — but his family was happy to meet Jonny in person and welcome him into the family. 

Patrick was going to stay an extra week, but Jonny would be leaving before him to go to Winnipeg for time alone with his family. Then, Patrick would fly out and meet the Toews family for the remaining time.

Jonny had barely stepped into Pat’s house when his worst fear came true: his sisters corrupted his boyfriend.

The moment his parents let go of Jonny, his sisters were grabbing him and pulling him out of the living room — away from Patrick — and talking a mile a minute, things like “I love your shirt,” and “make Patrick get a haircut,” and “you have to tell us everything Pat’s done since you’ve met him. We need more blackmail material.”

Jonny was enamoured with them already and Pat knew he was fucked.

True to his word, Jonny came downstairs the next morning, shoving his wallet in his back pocket, and told Patrick, “We’re going to the mall.”

Patrick — who was in the middle of watching the Kentucky Derby — startled from his seat on the couch. “We are?”

Jonny made a face. “No, not you. Me and your sisters.”

Jackie, Jess, and Erica came racing out of the kitchen, “We’re taking Jonny shopping to fix your taste in clothes.”

“Hey, I have great taste,” Patrick pouted, then, “How is taking Jonny shopping going to fix my clothes?”

“He knows your size.” Jess shrugged, then dragged Jonny out the door. 

“Careful,” his mother laughed from the doorway, “or they’ll lock him in the basement and keep him there.”

(He drew the line when they tried to get him to join them in making brownies. He knows they’ll team up on him and put flour in his hair. Or batter. Because they’re mean. And Jonny will let them.)

Patrick woke up on Jonny’s last day to a mouth on his dick, and hey, that was a nice way to welcome the day. 

Patrick turned to lay on his back and lifted the sheets a little, just enough to peek inside and see Jonny’s sleepy face and his lips wrapped around his cock. Jonny hummed his ‘good morning,’ eyes flicking up to meet Pat’s. Patrick dropped the blankets and closed his eyes, sinking into the feeling.

He came with a hand on Jonny’s head over the blankets and a fist shoved into his mouth as to not wake his family down the hall. Jonny shuffled up the bed, head out of the blankets to smile lazily at Pat.

Patrick kissed him, paying little mind to the fact that Jonny just had his mouth on his dick and his come on his tongue. “Thank you.”

Jonny hummed through a smile, pecking Patrick’s lips sweetly, “You’re welcome.”

Patrick wrapped his arms around Jonny’s waist and tugged him down so he could lay his head against his chest. Jonny had nice pecs, big and muscled, rising off the flat of his chest. Patrick couldn’t help run his thumb underneath the swell of one of them.

Jonny shivered, head dropping to press his face into Patrick’s unruly blond curls. He breathed in, taking in the smell of the rich-dude shampoo, the softness of them now that it’s been a while since he’s gelled them back.

“When’s your flight?” Patrick asked, pressing a kiss to the tan skin right next to a pebbled nipple. 

“Two.”

“Ugh.” 

“I’ll see you in a week,” Jonny chuckled, nosing down Pat’s temple, “It’s not that bad.” He pinched Pat’s asscheek, and Pat meeped.

He swatted at Jon’s arm, “Asshole.” 

“Bold of you to say considering I was selfless enough to wake you up with a blowjob.”

”You’re easy for my dick and you know it.”

Jonny swatted at his ass.  Patrick flushed red and tucked his face into Jon’s neck. “It’s only a week.”

Jonny nodded, hand rubbing circles over Patrick’s back, “It’s only a week.”

▪▪▪

A week  _ sucked. _

Don’t get him wrong, he loved his family. But he couldn’t help the sigh of relief when he sat down in his airplane seat on his way to Winnipeg. The flight only took about five or so hours, and he slept through most of it.

Stepping off the platform and into the terminal had his heart rate accelerating. He stopped to look for Jonny, standing out of everyone’s way, and spotted him sitting with a woman who looked like his mother, if Patrick can remember the pictures he’d seen.

He watched as Jonny said something to his mother, smiled, and wiped under his eye. He furrowed his eyebrows, but held back wanting to call out for him in an attempt to keep the attention off of him. Instead, he approached them quickly, only calling for him when he didn’t have to shout.

“Jonny, hey.” He said, about seven feet away from the chairs. Jonny was up and on his feet in a blink, sweeping Patrick into his arms. Pat was happy to cling on tightly and bask in the warmth, but he pulled back a little to get a better look at his boyfriend. “It looks like you’ve been crying.”

Jonny laughed a little, “What gave it away?”

“Your cheeks are all puffy,” he told him, “and I saw you wiping your eyes.” He glances nervously at André. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, we might have been talking about you,” Jon smiles sheepishly, “and I might have gotten a little emotional.”

“A little?” Pat teased, then grabbed his suitcases, “I missed you too, loser.”

Jon smacked him on the back of his head, before turning to his mother. “Maman, this is Patrick.”

She stood and shook his hand, smiling happy and bright at him. “It’s wonderful to finally meet you.”

“You too.” Patrick greeted, a nervous feeling bubbling up inside him.

“We should get going before too many people notice him.” Jonny told his mother.

The three made their way out of the airport, only having to stop a few times so Patrick could sign things. Once they were out and crammed in the backseat of André’s car, Pat was free to lace his and Jonny’s fingers together and lean his head against his shoulder.

He started fidgeting as they got closer to Jonny’s parents house. Jonny squeezed his hand tighter, bent his head down to press a kiss to his temple and said, “Don’t worry, Dad and David already love you.”

Patrick frowned. “They’ve never even met me.” 

“True, but I basically don’t shut up about you.” Jonny admitted sheepishly. “It’s gonna be fine.”

And as always, he was right. Bryan shook his hand with a tight grip and a smile, and David jerked his head upwards in a ‘sup’ motion, too busy focused on whatever video game he was playing.

When they went to sleep that night, tucked against one another in Jonny’s old room, Patrick stared up at the ceiling, eyes pinpointed on the little hockey stick engraved into the popcorn pieces. “You actually did that.”

Jonny hummed in question, lifting his head from its place in the juncture of Patrick’s neck and shoulder. “Oh, the stick? Yeah. I sprained my ankle for a couple weeks in peewees, and I was bored one night so decided ‘fuck it’ and drew a stick.”

Patrick snorted, nose brushing Jonny’s temple. He pressed his lips, soft and chapped, to Jonny’s cheek and let them linger there. “I’m getting you the Cup next year. I swear, Jonny, I won’t stop until I do.”

He felt Jonny’s eyelashes flutter against his neck. “Y’better. I’m still waiting for my kiss under the Cup.”

“Who needs mistletoe when you have the Stanley Cup?” Patrick scoffed.

“My thoughts exactly,” said Jonny, “Now go to sleep.”

Patrick stayed awake long enough to watch Jonny fall asleep in his arms, curled up tight and locked around Patrick’s body. Pat kissed his cheek again, skin warm under his lips, and listened to the steady intakes and exhales of Jonny’s breathing. Jonny twitched, suddenly, then snorted in his sleep, face scrunching up for a moment before softening back out.

“You’re a dork,” Patrick whispered, and knew that he meant ‘I love you.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry it’s been 3000 years but here have a chapter in honor of the draft


	19. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One year later, Patrick makes his run to kiss Jonny under the Cup.

_ One year later _

“They’re already winning.” Patrick gnawed at his already-non-existent nails worriedly the night before game three against the Capitals.

“You guys are tied.” Jonathan consoled him, setting a mug of hot chocolate in front of his boyfriend. 

“Being tied isn't winning, and we're not winning.” Pat huffed. He shook his head. “It takes one game to take the Cup away. They’ve got one point too many.”

“You’ll get them,” Jon assured, sitting on the stool at the bar counter in the kitchen next to him, “because you’re the great eighty-eight.”

Patrick snorted. “Yeah, I’m double Ovechkin. Or would I be eleven times Ovechkin?” He put his head in his hands. “Ugh. Math at midnight. Let’s not.”

“Well,” Jonathan drawled, “I know something we can do.”

Patrick tilted his head to look at Jon curiously. Jonathan took out his phone and opened YouTube. He searched for a song and smiled when he found it. He set it on the counter, let it play.

A country song started up, one that Patrick didn't know the name of, and he  raised his eyebrows, unimpressed. His boyfriend’s looks made up for the lack in his taste in music. Jonathan only shrugged and took Pat’s hands, pulled him to his feet in the middle of the kitchen.

He pulled Patrick into his chest, swaying them slowly, back and forth. Patrick’s hands came up to rest against Jonathan’s pecs. 

“You’re lucky to have me,” Jonathan rumbled, pressing his chin to the top of Patrick’s head, “I’m awesome.”

Patrick chuckled, and Jonny felt him nod against his chest. “Yeah, you are,” he agreed, “Just not as awesome as I am.”

“Gimme your hand.” Jon said, and pulled back a little. He spun Pat around like the cliche person he is, and Patrick landed against his chest with a soft thud. Jonathan’s arms came up immediately to wrap back around him.

Patrick’s hands moved up to hold Jonathan’s triceps, thick beneath his fingers. He closed his eyes and put all his trust into Jonathan, letting him sway them and keep him from falling.

Jonny’s arms coiled around Pat’s waist, pulling him flush against him. He put a hand on the back of Pat’s head, fingers tangling into his curls that he didn’t gel down this morning. Patrick’s arms slid around Jonny’s torso, pressed his face into Jon’s shoulder and just  _ breathed. _

A single tear fell onto Jonathan’s shirt, and nothing more. 

“Spontaneous movie date?” Jonathan said to Pat’s curls.

“It's midnight, Jon.” Pat mumbled against Jonny’s shoulder.

“Who cares?” Jon scoffed, then tugged Patrick into the living room to start up the DVD player.

▪▪▪

They won that game, but dropped the next, and the series remained tied. The Hawks were able to bounce back in overtime in game five to take a series lead of 3-2, but lost in regulation in game six to once again tie the series.

Patrick didn’t know what the back and forth was going to give him first: whiplash or a heart attack.

Game seven came on a hot June day when the air was humid and the atmosphere in the locker room was heavy. The WAGs — and Jonny — were in the locker room before puck drop to wish their men luck.

Patrick had Jonny wrapped up tight in his arms, soaking in his comforting presence as they sat on the bench in silence. There was a quiet murmur in the room, but the volume never raised louder than that. Everyone knew what was at stake tonight.

“The Cup is in the building.” He heard someone say. Patrick closed his eyes and pressed his face farther into Jonny’s neck.

“You’re going to do amazing.” Jonny whispered, kissing his cheek. “You’ve made it this far.”

Patrick pulled back a little to meet his boyfriend’s eyes. He tried to make his mouth work, but the words wouldn’t form. His brain was too busy in panic mode to be able to speak correctly.

“Hey,” Jonny said, soft, “Breathing is important.”

Patrick laughed a little, so Jonny laughed too. Patrick pinched the end of his nose and nodded. “Yeah, yeah it is.”

Jonny squeezed his hands, wanting desperately to kiss his fears away, but they were in public, so he refrained himself. 

“I don’t want to-”

Jonny looked up, and Patrick was back to trying to figure out how to talk. “I want to keep my promise.”

Jonny tilted his head. “What promise?”

Patrick shifted a little, back turning to the team. “Do you remember when we first started dating, and I told you that one day I’d win you a Cup, and I’d kiss you on the ice in front of everyone so we wouldn’t have to hide anymore?”

Jonny’s eyes widened. “Pat- I’m not going to be mad if you can’t do that. You know that, right?”

Patrick shrugged. “I guess. But I’m over thirty, Jonny. I don’t know how much longer I’ve got here. I want to get you that promise, and we’re so close.”

Colliton appeared in the doorway and knocked on the door to signal his presence. “Five minutes before we hit ice.”

That’s Jonny’s cue. He kissed Patrick on the lips, chaste but loving, wanting to put every ounce of his assurance into it. If they were alone, Jonny could mark him up with hickeys and nail-marks, or go on the ice with him and check him so hard he sees stars, because that’s  _ them.  _ That’s how they work.

But they can’t. Not here; not now. 

He leaned back a bit, but Patrick followed insistently, hand coming up to cup the back to  Jonny’s neck to keep it going for a few seconds longer. Because when they part, Patrick will have to get on the ice and win the game so that he can kiss his boy under the Cup. 

There’s no other option. Patrick is winning this Cup.

They break apart, and Jonny gave him one more peck on his forehead before following the WAGs out of the locker room.

Patrick puts on his helmet. It’s go-time.

▪▪▪

Patrick felt like he was flying when Gus netted a goal 18:54 into the third period to break the 3-3 tie. 

He got out one more shift, played until his legs burned and his muscles screamed, until all he could hear was his heartbeat. He got back to the bench with a little over half a minute left in the game.

His chest was tight in anticipation as the seconds ticked down. He watched the screen where big golden numbers got smaller and smaller. The Caps could score at any time and they’d be plunged into sudden-death overtime, and there would be no coming out of it. Their guys are too tired. Overtime would be hell.

As the time hit single digits, the bench was on its feet with the rest of the UC, banging sticks on the bench walls and the ice, breaths caught in their throats.

And then the horn sounded, and that’s it. The Hawks are Stanley Cup Champions again.

They leapt onto the ice, screaming at one another in excitement. They dogpile, shouting and cheering and shaking one another in elation. 

It was only when the red carpet was being rolled out that Patrick realized that he was about to kiss Jonny in the middle of the ice.

Families spilled out of the tunnel and over the boards, children leaping onto the backs of their fathers and wives falling into the arms of their husbands. 

And then there was Jonny, hurrying down the carpet and sliding onto the ice, graceful even with the weight of his ass working against him. He crashed into Patrick’s arms and crushed him in a hug immediately, and they screamed at one another in the midst of their excitement.

“You fucking did it!” He yelled, grinning up at him wide. Pat’s sweat is probably falling onto his clothes, but he didn't seem to pay any attention to it.

Patrick loved him.

He was so into blabbering to Jonny about how he almost had a panic attack on the bench, that he didn’t notice the Cup was being passed to him until it nudged him in the arm.

Seabs thrust Lord Stanley at him with a grin. “Keep it PG.”

Patrick grinned and took the Cup in his hands. He held it between him and Jonny, said, “Grab it,” and Jonny did. They lifted it above their heads — Patrick has to cheer again, because he won the fucking  _ Cup  _ — and then he’s surging forward and slamming his lips against Jonny’s.

(He probably should have mentioned his plan to Bowman or Rocky, but he supposed it was too late now.)

His teammates were cheering around them, slapping them with towels and squirting them with Gatorade. He could even hear Colliton laughing, clapping; Patrick wanted to cry.

They pulled back only long enough for Patrick to hand the Cup over to someone else — Saader, he thinks it is — before wrapping his arms back around Jonny and crushing him against his chest, trapping him again in a hot, searing kiss.

He wasn’t sure what was in store for him after this. He didn’t know what he was going to wake up to tomorrow morning, now that he was making out with his boyfriend on center ice. Patrick  _ does _ know that he has a date with the Stanley Cup, and that he is determined to drench Jonny in beer and sing  _ We Are the Champions  _ off key all night. He wanted Jonny pressed into his side through it all, wanted to go home and celebrate with him even more.

For now, though, Patrick is going to savor the feeling of kissing Jonny in the middle of the UC, because he’s a Stanley Cup Champion, and he has the right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guyssss it’s over! Thank you so much for all the love and support throughout this book. I know it kind of came to a sudden end, but I’ve dragged out finishing this book for the past few months and I thought it was best to wrap up. I hope you enjoyed it, and thank you again :)


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